A Different Kind of Hero
by SinSlash
Summary: In America, Harry befriends one Sam Winchester and after an unexpected "visit" from Sam's jerk of a brother Harry isn't able to get the man's devilish smile off his mind. Once more, adventure calls but will Harry heed it? Does he even want to? Slash.
1. Pilot pt1

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Supernatural._

**IMPORTANT, PLEASE READ: Now, before anyone accuses me of plagiarizing, this story was adopted from _Branwen777 _****with permission from _ConstantSnow_, ****who had originally been going to pick up the story****. Branwen herself adopted the story from _adorable baby dinosaur_, so as you can see now, this story has changed hands MANY times. **

**Warnings: Slash, Angst, Violence, you know... the usual of a typical Supernatural episode. Minus the slash of course, but even that's subjective. If any of this offends you, now is your chance to leave!**

This story is beta'd by: **StarAngel Caelum SunSoar**

**A/N: **Now that _that's _out of the way, let me begin by saying: Yay! No, seriously, it brings me great joy to have adopted this story and I hope I'm able to live up to everyone's expectations! Anyone who has read Branwen's "A Different Kind of Hero" has a general idea of what to expect, but I've thrown my own twists into the mix as well! Instead of just telling you, however, I'll let the story speak for itself. **  
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**Pilot - Part One**

**Lawrence, Kansas**

_**Twenty-two years ago**_

"Come on, let's say goodnight to your brother," Mary Winchester said as she carried her four year old son, Dean, into the nursery and sat him down next to the crib to say goodnight to his six month old brother, Sam.

"Night, Sam," Dean said, leaning over the crib to kiss his little brother's head.

Mary leaned over as well and pressed her lips to her youngest son's forehead. "Goodnight, love," she whispered, smiling down at him. Little Sam shifted, blinking adorable muddy-green eyes up at his mother.

"Hey, Dean," John Winchester's voice rang from the doorway of the nursery. He'd been working a late shift at his garage that night and they hadn't heard him come home so it was a pleasant surprise for both mother and son.

"Daddy!" Dean shouted in excitement as he spun around and ran to his father. The man caught him and lifted him into a big bear hug, laughing as he balanced Dean on his waist.

"Hey, buddy," John began with a light smile on his face. "So what do you think? You think Sammy's ready to toss around a football yet?"

Dean's face scrunched up in consideration as he thought long and hard on the question. Sammy shifted in his crib, clenching a tiny fist. "No, Daddy," Dean answered with a laugh as John smiled at him, his love for his children glowing on his face.

Dean had been so excited about having a little brother to play with, that when Sam was born he had been aghast, wondering how they could possibly do all of the fun things he wanted to do. Sam was _tiny_, no bigger than the pigskin Dean wanted to toss around. Now that little Sammy was out of her and in the world, Mary was in no hurry for him to grow up—during the pregnancy however, she had been _begging _for time to speed up. She loved both her sons to death, and would probably have more children in the future, but she hated the part where she had to carry them in her belly.

"You got him?" Mary asked as she walked past them while running her fingers over Dean's back as he rested his head against his father's shoulder. John could feel Dean's small yawn against his shoulder and knew that any moment now Dean would be out like a light.

"I got him," John answered, holding Dean tighter as he began to feel his son's small body relaxing more and more against him as sleep threatened to take him. "Sweet dreams, Sammy," he whispered to his youngest son as he closed the nursery door behind him.

John carried Dean to his bedroom where Mary was already waiting for them with the blankets turned back and the pillows sorted how Dean liked them. Even though Dean was pretty much out they took a moment to tuck him in and kiss him goodnight anyway, as they had done every night since he was born. Looking down at Dean now, so peaceful and vulnerable, John didn't think it was possible to love something as much as he loved his sons.

**o0o**

Mary jolted awake as the baby monitor beside her bed began making noises. She turned the lamp atop her nightstand on and rolled over to see that John was already up. For all she knew John could have been in the kitchen making a late night snack, so getting up, Mary decided to go check on Sam herself. She walked into the nursery only to see John's silhouette looming above the crib.

"John?" she asked, her eyes hooded with sleep. "John? Is he hungry?"

"Shhh," John whispered, not looking away from their son.

"All right," Mary stated, assuming John had already taken care of it and turned back to go to bed. However, a flash of something in the darkness caught her eye and she turned toward it, squinting. Next to the window, off to the corner of the room was a deep shadow, one darker than the rest and appearing to belong to a tall object. She didn't remember such a thing being in Sammy's nursery, and the sight of it tickled at senses that hadn't been used in years. John didn't seem concerned but still she doubled back and stepped into the room, a deep feeling in her gut warning her that something was _wrong _and that she should turn and walk away—but maternal instincts won out.

The shadow _shifted _and Mary let out a startled gasp, pinned down by the sight of two red orbs staring back at her. A sick feeling settled in her stomach and clogged her throat, realizing with growing horror that the shadow was a _man_.

"J-John," she called, taking a step backward, her eyes not leaving the stranger in her home. They had to get out of the house—_right now_. "John!"

The red pinpricks blinked, a hissing laughter flowing from the corner of the room. "Foolish woman."

Mary turned toward her husband, only to once more be left breathless as yellow eyes met her own.

**o0o**

John jerked awake at the sound of his wife's scream and despite being a bit disoriented at first his body it seemed was on pure automatic as he raced up the stairs yelling her name. He burst into the nursery where he could have sworn the sound had come from and looked around to find it empty except for Sammy who was wide awake and making cute little baby noises.

"Hey, Sammy. You okay?" John asked, smiling down at his small son in relief. He really needed to lay off the late night war movies. They were obviously starting to get to him.

As John continued looking into Sam's crib however, something wet dripped onto the pillow right beside Sammy's head. He reached down with a frown to touch the dark liquid, another drop falling onto his hand. A frozen tendril gripped his heart, causing it to hammer against his ribs. Breath leaving him in short pants, he looked up to the ceiling—and never again would John Winchester be able to close his eyes without seeing the image of his wife plastered to the ceiling, bleeding from the abdomen, staring open-mouthed, with a look of horror marring her beautiful face.

"Mary!" he shouted, surprised he could even _speak _with the bile burning like acid in his stomach. He took a step away from the crib and slumped to his knees, unable to tear his eyes away from the morbid sight before.

With a sudden whooshing sound, flames burst forth; the fire spread over the ceiling, engulfing it and his wife in a matter of seconds. The heat licked at his skin and the sudden crying from his crib restarted his brain on autopilot. Standing to his feet and wincing at the fire, John bundled Sam into a thin blanket and lifted him out of his crib. He ran for the nursery door, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck sizzle, the only thing going through his mind being getting his sons to safety. As he ran to leave the room with Sam huddled to his chest Dean appeared, having been woken by all the noise.

"Daddy!" Dean shouted, terrified by all of the commotion and confusion going on around him.

John handed Sammy over to Dean, _needing _to at least try to save his wife despite knowing there was nothing he could do for her. "Take your brother outside as fast as you can and don't look back. Now, Dean, go!" he shouted urging Dean forward. With a frightened nod, Dean took off and John turned and ran back to the nursery, shielding his eyes when the flames roared and leapt forward as if with a life of their own.

"Mary!" he called once again. Through the flames consuming the room he could just only make out the outline of his wife, but the wall of fire blocked him. Soon Mary disappeared as well, lost under the hungry flames. Again John screamed the name of his wife, his voice reverberating throughout the entire house. But he was too late.

**o0o**

Dean made it outside with Sammy cradled in his arms, not knowing what was going on and his little heart thrumming like a hummingbird inside his chest. He stopped in their front yard and turned to look at his house, a bright orange light shinning from the window of Sammy's nursery. Dean didn't know what was happening. He had just been sleeping in his room when all this chaos broke out. He didn't know what to do, but he _did _know that whatever he did he had to keep Sammy safe.

"Its okay, Sammy," Dean whispered as Sammy continued whimpering, even though in his heart, he knew that no… it was _not _okay. At that moment his daddy came running out of the house and lifted Dean off his feet. He held Sammy even tighter in his arms as the man ran with them across the yard and into the street.

"I gotcha," Dean heard his daddy say just as Sammy's nursery exploded.

No, Dean realized, staring at the swirling mass of fire. From then on, things would never be the same.

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**IMPORTANT, PLEASE READ: Just to make sure this wasn't ignored, I repeat: before anyone accuses me of plagiarizing, this story was adopted from _Branwen777 _****with permission from _ConstantSnow_, who had originally been going to pick up the story. Branwen herself adopted the story from _adorable baby dinosaur_, so as you can see now, this story has changed hands MANY times. Again, full permission was given from all authors involved.  
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	2. Pilot pt2

**A/N: **Hello! Those who are familiar know I can be pretty sporadic with updates, but I have a sort of "mental calender" with this story that I hope to stick to. This chapter is being released much earlier because the previous one was nothing more than a teaser. This one, however, is where things get moving, slowly but surely.

As always, I will let the story speak for itself! I hope you all enjoy it~!

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**Pilot - Part Two**

**London Airport**

_**Two Years Ago**_

The war was finally over, and all of Harry's training had been put to good use. Voldemort was dead; during the final battle Harry had watched as the man's tainted soul poured from his open mouth and dissipated into the sky, destroying him for good. Harry Potter, now nineteen, had decided to take a long awaited break and go to Muggle college in America. Most were shocked at this news—the Boy-Who-Lived, off to another country to attend college? The truth was, Harry had never really had a normal school life, and he wanted with all his being to experience one. Before Hogwarts, he was tormented by his cousin, Dudley, and was unable to enjoy himself, and while he treasured his time at Hogwarts, it couldn't be described as "normal." So that was why he chose an American college, as far away from magic and his old life as he could be.

He knew that he would be a few years older than most everyone else just coming out of Muggle high school, but being outside the norm hadn't really bothered him for a long time now. Besides, he'd heard from Hermione that a lot of college students took a few years off in between high school and college so he wouldn't be too out of place with his peers—or at least more out of place than he already was.

Harry didn't have much left for him in England since the end of the Second War. The few friends who had survived were moving on with their lives and didn't need him there. Besides, he would be a Floo call away if they did. Harry felt that he needed a new start too – somewhere fresh and free of all the memories that Europe held for him. Therefore, the logical choice was to go across the pond to America, so with Hermione's help that's what Harry had planned to do as the clean up in Britain reached its conclusion.

Now Harry was at the airport saying goodbye to his honorary Godfather and his Godson. Remus now had to raise Teddy on his own since Tonks had died in the final battle, but he assured Harry that he would call if he needed anything. Harry also said goodbye to the twins, the last of the Weasley family and made them promise they would send updates on their new merchandise.

Finally, Harry said goodbye to a tearful Hermione and her boyfriend Max, the first guy she'd dated since Ron. Harry hoped it worked out for them. Though he was loathe admitting it, Max and Hermione were a good match, perhaps even better than Ron and Hermione had been. Max was a scholar and spent most of his time behind a book just as Hermione did, and while he didn't bother himself with politics, Max supported all of Hermione's political goals and aspirations. However, _like _Ron, Max could be a bit of a prat when it came to things. He was a know-it-all like Hermione but so much more _obnoxious _and condescending about it, something which Harry found hard to put up with.

"Love you sis," Harry said, leaning forward to hug Hermione. She had grown into a fine witch, and while she still sported her frizzy hairdo and wore plain clothing, there was a confidence about her that caused one to take a second glance. "I'll be fine—_better_, you'll see," Harry told her, knowing she worried herself sick about him since the end of the war.

Harry had been the only one so far who hadn't moved on. He'd thrown himself right into rebuilding everything that had been destroyed: the businesses, the school, the homes, the lives, ignoring himself in the process, but now was his chance. This was his chance to make a life for just _him_. This was his chance to live life and find _happiness, _something which he hadn't had a lot of in his short nineteen years.

Hermione nodded and kissed his cheek, a watery smile on her face. "I love you too, Harry," she whispered, sniffling and rubbing at her eyes when he drew back.

"Goodbye everyone!" Harry called, receiving a chorus of farewells and many threats to his person if he didn't contact them. Laughing, Harry turned away from all of his teary-eyed friends to face his future. He was leaving everything behind and starting anew, and it all started now, with this single step.

Drawing in a deep breath, Harry adjusted his grip on his luggage and climbed on board the plane and seated himself, getting ready to go to Stanford and start his new life as Harry Evans Black; college student.

**o0o**

**Stanford University**

_**One Year & Four Months Ago**_

It had been a rough six months since Harry arrived at Stanford University, and to say he was "fitting in" would be an understatement. Stanford was a large and diverse place, so Harry was no longer the spectacle of the entire school as he was accustomed—however, he _was _the local celebrity of his dorm block, and not for anything exemplary such as academics or sports.

He was known for being loud, which is perhaps expected of someone his age. Harry was not a party boy, nor did he bring back multiple women—or in his case, _men_—to sleep with, yet still everyone would be able to pick his scream out from many. The reason for that was simple: his nightmares. Though Harry had left behind the physical reminders of his home (except for his wand and the Hallows of course), that didn't mean he was fine by any means emotionally.

His screams would pierce through the night, alerting everyone that he was once more having an episode. His roommate, Brady, tried to help, but the man just didn't know what to _do _besides call Harry's name and try to shake him awake; he soon learned, however, that Harry was not able to differentiate friend from foe upon waking and was known to lash out with physical violence before he would draw his wand and point it at his assailant.

Once lucidness returned to him, Harry would slump in defeated tiredness, offering empty words of apologies and trying not to let the man's pitying gaze affect him. If it was one thing he could not stand, it was being _pitied_.

Harry had wanted to keep silencing charms up, but he had worried that his roommate would decide to check in on him one night and find him thrashing and screaming but no sound coming out, or would try to come in and wake him and not be able to. Harry had opted instead to just try to get over his nightmares, but so far nothing he had tried worked. Dreamless sleeping potions only trapped him further in the memories and he could only go so many days without sleep before he collapsed.

Brady was not a bad roommate by any means, and usually he left Harry to his own devices, instead choosing to hang out with his best friend—a giant of a boy named Sam. Harry was grateful for this and tried to make up for his nuisances by doing whatever it was he could to help whether that be cooking, cleaning or just disappearing for the night when Brady appeared with his lady of the evening.

College, Harry found, wasn't as hard as he thought it would be, despite his less than stellar childhood education coupled with the cram sessions he had spent whatever free time he had with Hermione. He had decided he would try his hands in the medical fields, seeing as how he had spilt so much blood, that maybe it would be a sort of… redemption, that maybe his past wouldn't haunt him and he could be confident in the lives he _had _saved.

Because of this, he pushed himself harder than most, using whatever time he could to rove the libraries for any medical books. It was like this that he first came across Sam, the boy pouring over the books as well, a frown on his face.

Harry had seen Sam around a couple of times when the boy decided to hang with Brady, but he had never said more to him than a simple hello. Brady was the buffer between them, and without him, they didn't have much of a relationship. Still, since Harry had first met him, there was something about the man that tugged at his senses—it was familiar, but just out of reach. He hadn't even realized he had been staring until Sam looked up, pinning him with expressive green-brown eyes. Blushing despite himself, Harry looked down at his book, more embarrassed at being caught staring than anything else.

There was a sound of approaching footsteps and Harry realized with horror that Sam was walking over to him. He didn't look away from the row of books, not even when he felt the presence of someone else stand next to him. It was childish and unrealistic, but maybe if he pretended to ignore him, he would go away.

"Hello."

Harry resisted the urge to curse; he should have known that wouldn't work. Having no choice, Harry looked over at Sam and took in the man's easy smile, not giving one of his own. "Lo," he said, his hand going to his forehead to make sure his scar was hidden. It had become a nervous gesture of sorts to hide it, seeing as how even if it was spotted, they would think nothing of it besides that he had maybe conked his head when he was a child.

"You're Brady's roommate, right?" Sam asked, although it was obvious he already knew the answer. "Harry?"

Nodding, Harry took the man's outstretched hand in his own and gave it a firm shake. "Right, I'm Harry Black. And you're Sam. Sam…"

"Winchester," the man supplied, giving a quiet chuckle when Harry bobbed his head. "I've seen you around a few times, but we've never spoken." There was a curious note to his voice and Harry sighed, fighting to keep a grimace off his face.

The reason they hadn't spoken was because Harry hadn't _wished _it. Sure, there was… _something _between them, but Harry felt no desire to pursue it, even now as he felt it tugging at his senses. He didn't need nor _want _more friends—he had enough of those in Britain and he had left them behind. What he wanted… well, he wasn't _sure _what he wanted, nor was he sure of what he would have to do to get it.

Harry ran a hand through his messy black locks, stalling for time as he thought on how to deal with the sudden situation he found himself in. "Look, Sam, I uh… I'd really like to stay and talk, but I have an exam coming up, so…" He trailed off, hoping his unsaid message would be understood.

Instead of looking discouraged, Sam perked up, a bright grin on his face. "Oh, me too! Maybe we could study together?"

So much for that plan.

"I'm a med student," Harry said, _praying _that Sam was studying in something different—marine biology, perhaps?

"Cool," Sam nodded, cheeks dimpling, "I'm studying law."

Harry barely kept from releasing an explosive sigh of relief. "See? We're studying totally different things."

Sam shrugged, nonplussed. "I don't mind; I could use the company."

Again, Harry had his back against the wall and couldn't find a new excuse to get himself out of this. Why was Sam doing this in the first place? Surely Brady had warned the man off of Harry with tales of his night terrors. To stay away from the _freak_. Harry wasn't oblivious to the stares that were sent his way or the rumors whispered about him, he just didn't _care_. He was above them and their childish gossiping; he had gotten his fill at Hogwarts.

Having no choice, Harry nodded and grabbed the book he had been eyeing before leading them over to an empty table—his personal favorite, at the very back of the library and situated in a corner out of sight from the rest of room. He plopped down in a seat and Sam followed his example, a silence descending over them as Harry opened his book and began glancing through the pages.

The words were there, but they weren't registering in his brain. He could feel himself being watched, and at their secluded table, there could only be one such person. Growling, Harry looked up, unsurprised to find Sam eyeing him as if he were a scientific specimen under a microscope. "What?" he bit out, not caring if his tone was less than welcoming.

Sam brushed the hostility off without effort, not letting up on his scrutiny. "Nothing," he said, face considering, "it's just… I don't know; there's something about you. Like a _feeling_."

"You feel it too?" The words were out before Harry could stop them and Sam's eyes widened in surprise before a sharp spark appeared in them. It was the look of a warrior scouting for threats, one Harry had seen many times on the battlefield. But Sam hadn't carried himself as a warrior till this moment, so why…? Harry blinked, and Sam's open expression was back, that steely glint having disappeared like a wisp of smoke. Had he just imagined it…?

"Yeah, I feel it," Sam admitted, after what felt like several tense minutes. He was smiling, but Harry wasn't able to shake off the feeling that he was being stalked by a predator. "What did you say your last name was again?"

"Black. Harry Black."

Sam hummed, eyes narrowed in thought. "Maybe your mother was a family friend," he threw in, chortling when Harry just stared at him, deadpan.

"Yeah," Harry began in a dry tone, "I'm sure she flew down from Britain to have tea every Sunday."

Sam chuckled and even Harry smiled, somewhat mollified by the sound. When the man's chuckles quieted, he spoke, "So you're from Britain, huh?"

Harry quirked a single brow. "You've uncovered my deep dark secret; now I'll have to kill you." Again Sam laughed, this time Harry joining him. "No, seriously; I am, as I'm sure you've no doubt figured out from my _regal _accent."

"Regal," Sam snorted, "right. I also can't help but notice your _lovely _British modesty."

"We try," Harry conceded, inclining his head. The two stared at each other for several moments before erupting into peals of laughter that bordered on the hysterics. Harry laughed so hard tears poured from his eyes and Sam was banging on the table with a single fast, gasping as his lungs worked to supply him with air.

A harsh _'shh_' came from around the corner, almost sending them over the edge once more. Harry clamped a hand over his mouth, muffling the sound of his giggles while Sam buried his face in his arm, shoulders still shaking in mirth.

Finally they calmed, the two sharing identical grins. Sam released a deep whoosh of air, still chuckling under his breath. "I haven't laughed that hard in… _ever_."

"I have to agree," Harry said, finding himself shocked by this knowledge. He stared down at his still open book and blinked. "I wasn't kidding about that exam, though. I really _do _need to study."

Sam appeared sheepish and looked down at his own book. "Sorry," he coughed, sobering. "Right then, let's study!"

Harry stared, both of his eyebrows raised. Instead of commenting on Sam's gung-ho attitude he shook his head, once more reading the words before him and _still _not comprehending. Now instead of trying to find out Sam's motives, he was trying to find out why he was so _relaxed _around the much taller man. Yes, there was _something _about Sam that resonated with him, but he didn't know _what _nor did he know _why_.

Was it possible that Sam was a wizard? Peering through his bangs, Harry stared at the male, wishing he knew a spell that was able to detect magic. Maybe he would ask Hermione about such a thing later. But if that was the case, shouldn't he feel such a connection from _all _people with magic and not just Sam? Back in Britain, he had _never _felt like this—not even with his own best friends, which filled him with a hint of guilt.

Sighing, he shook his head. What did it matter? It wasn't hurting anything, and besides—now he had a study buddy. He was sure Hermione would be proud.

Pushing all thoughts from his brain, Harry concentrated on the textbook before him, missing when Sam began giving him covert glances of his own.

**o0o**

**Stanford University**

_**Eleven Months Ago**_

After their meeting in the library those many months ago, Harry and Sam formed a tentative bond that strengthened as the months blew by. Sam and Brady were still best friends, so whenever Sam asked Harry to tag along he'd decline, finding any excuse as to why he couldn't. Sam would frown and try his puppy dog eyes, which were a force to be reckoned with. Harry had to make sure his Occlumency shields were up and operational; those puppy dog eyes were like mind control.

Harry liked Sam, he really did; he would love to hang out with him, but only if he wasn't the third wheel. Harry had nothing against Brady, but after he came back from the Thanksgiving hols he had become… insufferable. He would stay out late and then come back to their room drunk—if he came back at all—and then he'd proceed to vomit everywhere, leaving it for Harry to clean up. And though his nightmares were on a steady decline, Brady had taken to wearing earplugs and would leave Harry to scream in squalor until he fought himself awake, more shaken up than usual.

Sam was concerned for his best friend's odd behavior, but he let up a tad when he was introduced to Jessica Moore, a girl who happened to be studying medicine with Harry. They had talked on occasion, but they were distant acquaintances at best, yet with Sam dating her, they began to run into each other a lot more often and a friendship of sorts was developing.

When Brady announced that he would be dropping out of school, Harry had barely resisted the urge to leap for joy and throw a dorm party. Sam, however, was adamant against it and even tried to get Harry to talk the man into staying. He had, if only out of consideration for Sam, but his words had gone in one ear and out the other, and before the end of the month, Brady dropped out, leaving Harry without a roommate.

Sam's old roommate caught a convenient sickness as well, hospitalizing him and leaving Sam with no one to bunk with. Of course, Harry offered his room to Sam, and within a week, the two were living together. It was more comfortable than living with Brady had ever been, and Sam reacted much better to his nighttime terrors than Brady ever had.

When he had his first nightmare, it had been of the usual, those who had died in the war tormenting him in his sleep, filling him with a deep guilt and sadness. When those cold hands clamped around his throat, cutting off the airway to his lungs, he struggled, flailing helplessly. And then in zombie movie fashion, they attacked him, clawing at his arms and face and sinking their teeth into his limbs.

Once more, his screamed ripped through the night. This time, however, he was awakened by whispered words and gentle strokes, consciousness returning to him slowly instead of without warning, as was usual. He didn't even go for his wand, too relaxed by the strong hands kneading his hair to do more than open his eyes.

Sam was leaning over him on the bed, eyes shining in concern as he continued his ministrations, noticing that Harry was awake. "Harry?" Harry blinked and hummed in question, nothing more than a puddle of goo under Sam's hands. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Harry said, groaning when the hand in his hair retracted. Sam just chuckled, a gentle smile on his face.

"That was some nightmare you were having there," Sam stated, face open and understanding. "You want to talk about it?" Harry sighed, not wanting to remember what had haunted him, let alone make it more real by talking about it.

"I don't remember," he lied, not meeting Sam's gaze. No doubt Sam knew he was lying as well, but the man didn't comment on it, the bed creaking as he stood to his feet.

"Oh well. Just get some sleep." Harry listened as Sam trudged back to his own bed and waited for the squeak as the bed dipped under his weight. Once he was sure Sam was lying down, he snuggled into his sheets and closed his eyes.

"Sorry for waking you…"

Sam's bed groaned as he shifted to look at Harry's huddled form, a frown on his face. "Don't worry about it, Harry. Just _sleep_."

And Harry did. His eyelids dipped downward, confident in the knowledge that should he ever have a nightmare, there would always be someone there to wake him.

**o0o**

**Stanford University**

_**Five Months Ago**_

Sam and Harry continued to grow closer as roommates as well as friends, but a snag appeared during the end of the Spring Semester when Sam revealed he was moving in with Jess in a small apartment in Palo Alto. Harry wanted to appear supportive, but all he felt was disappointment and an odd pang in his chest that he locked away and shoved to the furthest reaches of his mind.

He was _not _jealous of Sam, but he was enviable of what the man had with Jess: love, devotion, a _relationship_. He and Sam were friends and he had come to accept that was all they would ever be. On some level, they understood each other; Sam knew how to deal with all of his little quirks and with him gone, he would miss that.

Harry wanted what Jess and Sam had, and while he had tried on numerous occasions to find it, all he had managed to acquire were one night stands that left him feeling alone and brokenhearted.

"Oh," Harry had sighed, staring at his lunch tray without interest. It was customary for he, Sam and Jessica to all eat lunch together—another thing he would miss—but Jess had an important exam coming up and had rushed off for some last minute studying, leaving it just the two of them. "I guess we won't be seeing much of each other anymore, huh?"

Sam's ecstatic smile dropped, his forkful of salad stopping inches from his face. "Why do you say that?" he asked, voice hesitant as he sat down his fork to stare at his best friend.

Harry sighed and turned away, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Well, with you living off campus, we can't just swing by each other's dorm or meet for lunch, like this."

"Oh," Sam blinked, a forlorn look rising to his face. He hadn't considered the possibility that living arrangements would change the amount of time they were able to spend together. He had just been so excited about moving in with the girl of his dreams that he had just… _forgotten _about Harry. But now that he realized, guilt began gnawing away at his insides, making him feel like that one guy who ditched all his friends, just so he could spend more time with a girl.

"No, Sam, don't," Harry groaned, seeing all the joy in his friend being replaced with regret. "_Go_. Forget about me; it's not like we'll _never _see each other—just not as much."

Sam wasn't convinced. He stared down at the table, his forehead creased in thought. "But what about you?"

Harry scoffed. "Sam, come on. I'm a big boy, I'll be _fine_. You should do whatever makes _you _happy, and if Jess makes you happy, then, hey…" Harry trailed off, wiggling his eyebrows and Sam laughed, a spark of humor returning to his eyes.

"I still don't know," he admitted with a sigh, shaking his head. "I mean, you're my best friend; I don't want to just… leave you behind." Sam had been broken up by the sudden dropping out of Brady, and it had been Harry who was there to support him. With time, the void left by his old friend was filled by Harry, the two becoming almost inseparable.

"Okay now you're just being ridiculous," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "We'll still be in the same state, Sam. You'll be only a phone call or cab ride away." Sam still appeared to have doubts, his lips tugging downward. "Sam! If you don't go through with this because of me I swear I'll—"

"Move in with us."

"What?" Harry blinked. "No, I was going to say 'beat you until you have a face not even Jess could love.'"

"No," Sam denied, shaking his head. "I meant that you should move in with us!"

Again, Harry blinked and stared at Sam as if he were unrecognizable. He first pointed to himself. "Me?" Sam nodded. He pointed toward Sam. "Move in with you?" Once more, Sam nodded. Still unable to comprehend, Harry gestured in a wide circle. "And all of us live together? Me, you and Jess? Under a single roof?"

"Yes, yes and yes," Sam said, laughing when Harry just contained to gape at him. "So what do you say?"

Harry shook his head, overwhelmed at the offer even though warmth was blooming in his chest. A smile touched at the corner of his lips. "I say, Jess is gonna _castrate _you when she finds out."

Sam chuckled, although it contained a nervous undertone. "Nah, she'll understand." The man clearly didn't believe his own words and Harry snorted. "No, she will! She likes you," Sam said, trailing off into silence as his gaze drifted toward the edge of the table.

"Enough to let me move in with her and her _boyfriend_?"

"I, uh—" Sam stood to his feet, his movements jerky. "I need to make a phone call. Be right back." Harry watched his friend walk off with a laugh, knowing that the man was about to call his girlfriend and ask—or rather, _beg—_her to let Harry room with them.

While he was touched that his friend valued him enough to go through the effort, he couldn't for the life of him understand _why_. Here in America he wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived nor was he the Gryffindor Golden Boy, he was just Harry. Harry _Black_ to be more specific, but that was a name. Who he was on the inside hadn't changed at all.

The sudden answer was like a slap to the face and Harry chuckled, taking a bite of his food and grimacing at the taste. Despite the initial draw they had felt toward each other, it had been how well their personalities meshed that allowed them to become friends. And while Sam was keeping some secrets from him, Harry didn't press because he was no better. They both accepted that the other had a history, and they accepted that it didn't _matter. _It didn't change who they were in the here and now.

Harry looked up when Sam plopped back into his seat, a huge grin on his face. Harry raised a curious brow, having a feeling as to what news Sam would bring.

"She said yes!" Sam crowed, his grin seeming to grow wider. Harry laughed at his friend's excitement but he felt a similar excitement building inside him as well.

"That's great! But I didn't know you popped the question," Harry sniped, his teasing grin falling when Sam stiffened, his smile morphing into a shocked 'o'. Harry could feel his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. "You plan on marrying her!"

A flush spread across Sam's nose and he looked down at the table, a scowl on his face. "One day," he muttered, only blushing further when Harry began making cooing sounds.

For one terrible moment, Harry wished it had been _him _who had managed to steal Sam's heart, but he shoved the feeling down, instead forcing a smile onto his face. He should be _happy_. This wasn't about him—it was about Sam and _his _happiness. With that thought in mind, he began lavishing encouragements onto his friend and making names for the freaky-tall sexy babies Sam and Jess would no doubt have. Sam's face hadn't lost any of its redness during the conversation, but there was a _light _in his eyes as he spoke and his grin was that of anticipation for the future. Harry's heart lightened at that smile, hoping that he would one day wear a similar expression.

**o0o**

**Palo Alto, California **

_**Present Day – Apartment Complex**_

"Harry! Where's my hairbrush?"

Harry looked up from the book he was reading at the sound of Jess's call, a frown on his face as he racked his memories on where he'd seen it last. "Did you check on top of the toilet?" he yelled back, listening for her response.

"Why would it be on top of the toilet?" came her amused and disgusted reply. Harry just huffed, looking toward the kitchen when Sam strode in, wearing his usual clothes which consisted of a button down shirt, his favorite jacket, and a pair of jeans. Harry raised a single brow as he stared the man up and down, his gaze pointed.

Sam froze, looking down at his clothes and then back up at Harry. "What?"

Groaning, Harry sat up on the couch, all thoughts of studying forgotten. "Why aren't you dressed? You know Jess has been getting ready for that party for the past—what, _hour and a half_?"

"Come on," Sam whined. "You know how I feel about Halloween."

"Tough luck," Jess said, walking in while trying to put in her earrings. Harry let loose a wolf whistle, Sam looking torn between mock glaring and ogling his girlfriend. Jess had decided to go all out and wore a very sexy white and red nurse outfit—a small nod to what she was studying to be. "Harry already used that excuse, so find another."

Sam flashed Harry a betrayed look and the younger man grinned, his gaze unapologetic. "Hey, it was either you or me," he said by way of apology, laughing outright when Sam slumped in defeat.

"You sure you don't want to come?" Jess asked and Sam perked up, hopeful that he wouldn't have to go on his own.

"Nah, I'll entertain myself with some light reading," he said, patting the open book next to him that was anything but light. "Besides, _someone _has to watch the house while you two lovebirds go out. Jess as the naughty nurse and Sam as the boring stick-in-the-mud."

"Hey!" Sam cried in outrage, looking down at his clothes with a frown. He was mollified when Jess strode over and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

"Don't worry, you're the _hottest _stick-in-the-mud in town," she purred, stepping around him and giving him a swift pat on the bum. "Now go get dressed. We were supposed to be there like fifteen minutes ago."

Sam grumbled, still tugging at his clothes. "I _am _dressed."

Harry just snorted at his friend's plight, ignoring the quiet argument that followed with Sam refusing to change clothes. In the end, Jess had no choice but to concede to the man's stubbornness, throwing her hands up to the heavens.

"Alright, man. Well I guess we'll head out then. Goodnight," Sam called heading towards the door with Jess in tow. Harry waved them off with a final "Have fun!" and released a sigh when the door closed behind them, shaking his head in fondness.

They really were a cute couple, and though Harry hadn't been the one to get them together, it was nice to see something so pleasant flourish and be a part of it instead of being responsible for tearing them apart through death.

Harry knew that rationally it wasn't his fault that so many had died during the war, but he couldn't help but feel that if he had just somehow been able to kill Voldemort sooner, then more of his friends would have lived and would be starting families on their own. At least those who had survived were able to find love after the war. Harry himself had yet to find someone. It wasn't that he hadn't tried; it was just hard to find someone who would _understand_ him… who would stay through the nightmares.

He'd gone through new potential lovers just about every week, some only lasting one or two nights, but they never stayed—not when they learned of the baggage he carried. Sam had been the first person who seemed to _understand_, but of course he was taken.

Before they had gotten to know each other Sam had simply roused Harry and made sure he was alright, which was more than Harry could have asked for. Then once they had gotten comfortable with each other Sam had crawled into bed with him and held him, which had at first been awkward, but became more natural as time wore on. It had gotten to the point where they didn't even notice and it continued—even when Harry moved in with Sam and Jess. The first night Jess had found them curled up on the couch together she had been upset, but after Harry had defended Sam and explained about his nightmares, as humiliating as it was for him, she had been okay with it.

If it wasn't for the fact that Sam was deeply in love with Jess then Harry probably would have fallen in love with him. Now however, all Harry could see Sam as was the big brother he'd never had, but had always wanted. Harry just hoped that he was lucky enough to one day find someone just like Sam for himself, but Harry wasn't holding his breath of it happening any time soon—if ever.

* * *

**A/N: **My first Author's Note at the bottom of a page! I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, but I put this here because I wanted to ask a question while this chapter is still fresh in your mind.

So... Sam?

Hehe, if that question means nothing to you, don't worry, but to those who get it... nudge nudge, wink wink.


	3. Pilot pt3

**A/N: **Wowza. Looks like most of you guys are enjoying what I've done with this story so far, and I hope that continues with this chapter as well!

As for the "So... Sam?" question, I got a mixed bag of responses. Some are like "Do it and I'll rip your head off!" while others are like "...Sam? ::explodes at the hawtness::" Yeah, those are exaggerated, but you get the point. I'm still undecided though. You may see "hints", but it can go either way. And don't worry, it won't be for a while.

Oh, and there WILL be Dean/Harry, never doubt that!

Now for updating schedules! I'm tempted to do "new chapter every Sunday" because when I update too fast, I give everyone unrealistic expectations and eventually start slowing down. So, lets try "every Sunday" and see where it goes, shall we?

Aaand that's it for Author's Notes me thinks. Hope you all enjoy this chapter!

* * *

**Pilot - Part Three**

**Palo Alto, California **

_**Apartment Complex**_

It was late; Sam and Jess were asleep in their room while Harry was fast asleep on the couch. Jess and Sam had wanted to find a foldout bed for him but Harry refused, saying that he was fine with the couch—which he was. A few cushioning charms and it was good as any bed, although he was prone to falling to the floor when having a more dreadful than usual nightmare.

Harry heard a clicking noise and his eyes snapped open. Too many years of war had made sure that no matter how hard he tried, hours of ingrained training would not be forgotten. If Moody could he would've made sure Harry slept with both eyes open; instead the man had settled for making sure Harry was a very light sleeper.

The sound of the front door closing touched Harry's ears and he could see a man making his way through the dark. His wand was in its holster, but he would only use magic as a last resort. Instead, he feigned sleep until the man spotted him and paused to get a closer look. When the man was mere feet away, Harry struck.

Harry sprang from the couch and landed a solid right hook to the guy's jaw, drawing a grunt from them. The intruder jerked backward but rolled with the punch, retaliating with one of his own. Harry ducked and dove in for a tackle, grabbing the man around the waist and sending them both to the floor with a muted thump. He tried to pin the man, but because of his slight build, Harry found himself pressed to the ground, the world still spinning from the unexpected move. They were near the same height, Harry being shorter by a couple of inches, but Harry wasn't nearly as broad as this man. His muscles were all lithe and compact, more for speed than brute strength.

The man above him chuckled but it soon turned into a curse when Harry reared forward and delivered a brutal headbutt to the man's nose.

"Son of a—"

It was all the opening Harry needed; he slipped from under the man's pin and they were both on their feet, waiting for the other to make the first move. For some reason, Harry found a smile blooming on his face, blood pounding in his ears and feeling more alive than he had in a _long _time. It had been years since he really got to _move_, so he was beginning to enjoy this more than he should.

"You're good," mystery house-breaking guy said, body dipped low in preparation for an attack.

Harry snorted, his grin growing wider. "Thanks, you're not bad yourself; I'm having a blast kicking your arse."

The shadowed man stood up in outrage, and Harry attacked, using his speed to his advantage and throwing out quick compact punches that wouldn't do much damage, but what damage it _did _inflict would accumulate. His opponent was able to block most of the blows but a few slipped by, striking his face with quiet thwacks.

A growl was the only warning Harry had before the man counterattacked, throwing powerful swings that ripped through the air. Harry knew that if he took even _one _of those blows he would be seeing stars, so he did his best to avoid them. He was performing quite well until he lost sight of his surroundings and stumbled over a chair, falling to the ground with an _"oomph_."

The man seized on his chance without delay, that powerful body covering Harry's own and pinning his limps. Again they chuckled, their breath tickling against his ear as they leaned around him in case he decided to use another headbutt.

"Looks like I win."

Before Harry could give a biting retort the lights flicked on, bathing the room in sudden brightness. Harry blinked several times as his eyes adjusted and was met with his assailant's face for the first time—and what a fucking gorgeous face it was. Harry didn't think he'd ever seen someone so beautiful while also managing to be so manly and rugged. In fact, Harry felt his eyes widen and his breath hitch before he could stop himself and the man above him smirked, causing Harry's astonishment to turn into a glare of anger and annoyance.

"Harry? Dean?" Sam could only blink in shock as he took in the sight of his best friend being straddled by his older brother. He didn't know if he should laugh or just pinch himself to make sure he wasn't having a very _weird _dream.

Both men looked at him as if they had been caught doing something they shouldn't have—with for Dean was true, but Sam wasn't sure why Harry appeared so. "You know him?" they asked at the same time. Harry sounded both relieved and shocked while Dean sounded amused.

Though Harry no longer felt as if he were in battle, he didn't dare move until he knew for sure this wasn't some trick. He had been a second away from pulling out his wand and blasting "Dean" to oblivion.

"Yeah," Sam answered, staring as if it pained him to admit it. "He's my brother."

"Well in that case," Harry said, staring up at Dean with a raised eyebrow. "Could you kindly get off of me before I knee you in the crotch?" Dean hurried to comply and pulled Harry to his feet.

"You'd knee me in the nads?" Dean asked, looking aghast. "That's _low._"

Harry shrugged, an amused lift to his lips. "You do whatever it takes to win—which I _would _have, by the way, had Sam not interrupted us."

Dean snorted. "You just keep telling yourself that, squirt."

"Harry," said man bit out, extending his hand in greeting. "My name's _Harry. _Harry Black, Sam's good friend. I would say it's nice to meet you, but, well…" He trailed off, his gaze unapologetic.

"Dean Winchester," the man introduced, a cocky grin on his face, unbothered by Harry's attitude. "Sam's much hotter brother. Where'd you learn to fight like that?" he asked, not being subtle at all with the way his eyes raked over Harry's body.

Harry looked Dean dead in the eye. "I had a bully problem back in Britain."

Dean appeared skeptical. "Bullies? You learned to fight like that because of a bully problem?"

Harry's lips quirked up in a small smile. "Right buggers, they were."

Sam decided that it was time to interrupt, before another fight broke out between the two or they began ripping each other clothes off—hell, maybe even both. Britain was one of those things he didn't push Harry about, and he knew how forceful Dean could be when trying to solve a mystery; besides Sam had more important questions to ask his brother.

"What the hell are you doing here, Dean?" Sam asked.

"I was looking for a beer," Dean replied. Harry wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic or totally serious. Neither one would surprise him at this point. Then Dean gave a cocky smile and Harry's breath hitched once again. "Is that how you welcome your big brother after three years? You sic your best friend on him—"

"You could've knocked," Harry pointed out.

"I could've," Dean agreed, smiling, "but then we wouldn't have had our little sparring match."

Harry inclined his head, finding no fault in the man's logic. Sam just stared as if they were _both _mental.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sam asked again, getting a little defensive. Harry moved slightly in front of Sam in case a fight broke out. He didn't know if Sam could fight as well as his brother, and he didn't know the history between them. Surely Dean wouldn't try to hurt Sam, but then again Harry had been wrong before.

"Okay, man, we gotta talk," Dean said, becoming more serious, which had Harry's curiosity burning and his defenses on high alert. Something was going on—something _big_.

"Uh, the phone? You could have tried that," Sam said, looking at his brother like he was a complete idiot.

"If I'd called, would you have picked up?" Dean deadpanned.

Before Sam could answer that a light upstairs flickered on and Jess came down wearing a pair of very short sleeping shorts and a cropped Smurf shirt. "Sam? Harry? What's going on?" she asked, sleep evident in her eyes and voice.

"Jess, hey," Sam said, turning to see Jessica standing there and blinking at the scene in confusion. "Dean, this is my girlfriend, Jessica," he introduced, his posture awkward.

"Wait, your brother Dean?" Jess asked catching on quicker than Harry, who had never known that Sam even had an older brother. They had never really broached the topic of family as it was a touchy subject for both of them, causing neither to want to bring it up.

Dean smirked and Harry felt his chest clinch as the man eyed Jessica. From the look of things Dean was a player, not that Harry should have expected anything less from someone who looked and acted as cocky as Dean did. Harry tried to convince himself that it didn't matter to him one bit, but he couldn't deny the small twinge of disappointment he felt. Harry had his fair share of one night stands, when he'd been particularly drunk or feeling alone, but it wasn't something he was into or proud of. More often than not it left him more depressed than when he'd gone out.

"Oh, I love the Smurfs," Dean said, his eyes zeroing in on Jess's cleavage where the Smurf design lay. "You know, I gotta tell you. You are completely out of my brother's league." While his flirtatious behavior was indeed obnoxious, he did seem genuinely shocked that Sam had managed to capture someone like Jessica.

For her part Jess wasn't buying into his gimmicks—because she was smarter than that and wasn't as pathetic and desperate as Harry was. He had taken one _look_ at Dean and began panting. It made Harry want to puke now that he thought about it.

"Just let me put something on," Jess said, eyeing Dean in wariness as she wrapped her arms around herself and moved back toward the stairs.

"No, no, I wouldn't dream of it," Dean stated and Harry had to resist the urge to slap the man. The more Dean spoke the more Harry didn't like him, and it had absolutely nothing to do with jealousy and everything to do with the fact that this man was a serious jerk—or at least that's what Harry tried to tell himself. "Seriously. Anyway, I gotta borrow your boyfriend here, talk about some private family business… but, uh, nice meeting you."

"No. Whatever you want to say, you can say it in front of them," Sam said shaking his head as he walked over to Jess and wrapped an arm around her. Harry grabbed his blanket off the couch and handed it to Jess; she took it from him with a grateful smile and wrapped it around her shoulders.

Dean thought for a moment and to Harry it looked as if he was trying to find a way to get something across without having to say the actual words.

"Okay, umm… Dad's hasn't been home in a few days."

"So he's working overtime on a Miller Time shift," Sam replied with a careless shrug of his shoulders. "He'll stumble back in sooner or later." It took Harry a moment to realize that Sam was being sarcastic. By Miller Time shift he meant that his father was out drunk somewhere and would literally stumble back home. By the look on Dean's face, that was not the reaction he had been hoping for.

Dean sighed in frustration and gave Sam a look that held so much meaning behind it Harry was surprised the brothers weren't talking telepathically. "Dad's on a hunting trip," Dead said with purpose. "And he hasn't been home in a few days."

Sam's shock look was enough to confirm Harry's suspicions. Whatever it was that had brought Dean here looking for his brother's help—it was serious.

Things were about to get complicated… _again_.

"Guys, excuse us, we have to go outside," Sam said, never taking his eyes away from Dean's before he grabbed Dean by the arm and made his way out the door.

Jess looked at Harry, a small frown on her face. "What do you think that was about?" she asked, the worry clear in her voice.

"No idea, but I'm sure Sam will be fine. How about some hot chocolate?" Harry asked trying to draw her attention on to something else.

Jess nodded, but it was obvious that her thoughts were still on Sam and his mysterious brother. Sighing, he went to the kitchen to make some hot chocolate, Jess following behind him like a lost puppy.

**o0o**

"I mean come on; you can't just break into my house in the middle of the night and expect me to drop everything and hit the road with you," Sam said as soon as he was out of earshot.

Dean started leading the way towards his car. "You're not hearing me Sammy. Dad's missing; I need you to help me find him," he said.

"You remember the poltergeist in Amherst, or the devil's gates in Clifton? He was missing then too. He's always missing and he's always fine," Sam protested, not sure if he was trying to convince Dean or himself.

"Not for this long," Dean replied, stopping and turning to face his brother, and Sam had never seen him look so worried before. "Now you gonna come with me or not?"

"I'm not," Sam said defiantly, despite his own fear, but he couldn't just drop everything he had worked so hard for.

"Why not?" Dean asked, or rather,_ demanded_.

"I swore I was done hunting for good," Sam stated, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

There was no way Sam was going to get sucked back into that life. He'd tried too hard to fit into the one he had now. He'd tried so hard to live a normal life, and everything was finally falling into place. Sam had a steady girlfriend, possibly future wife, and a best friend he would do anything for, and who he was pretty sure would do anything for him if the scene from earlier was anything to go by.

"Come on, it wasn't easy, but it wasn't that bad," Dean tried, knowing that deep down Sam had to miss the thrill of the hunt. This life was in his blood.

"Yeah? When I told dad I was scared of the thing in my closet he gave me a .45," Sam chuckled mirthlessly.

"Well what was he supposed to do?" Dean asked confused, and it angered Sam even more that Dean would be so genuinely confused about something like that.

"I was nine years old. He was supposed to say 'Don't be afraid of the dark,'" Sam exclaimed in frustration at Dean for defending it, but mostly at his own father for doing this to them.

"Don't be afraid of the dark?" Dean asked incredulously. "What are you kidding me of course you should be afraid of the dark! You know what's out there!"

"Yeah I know, but still—" Sam tried to explain, letting his frustration bleed away so that he could better deal with Dean. "The way we grew up after mom was killed, and dad's obsession to find the thing that killed her - but we still haven't found the damn thing, so we kill everything we can find-"

Dean cut him off. "Save a lot of people doing it, too," he defended vehemently.

"You think mom would have wanted this for us? The weapon training and melting the silver into bullets? Man, Dean, we were raised like warriors," Sam said trying to get Dean to understand, but it was like talking to a brick wall. Dean didn't want to understand. Dean had never had a chance to escape like Sam had. Hunting was all Dean knew, all Dean _had_.

"So, what are you gonna do? You just gonna live some normal, apple pie life? Is that it?" Dean asked sarcastically, but Sam thought he saw a trace of hurt cross Dean's face, but it was gone just as quick as it had come.

"No. Not normal, _safe_," Sam replied calmly. Dean turned and walked the rest of the way down the stairwell leading down from their apartment as Sam followed behind.

"And that's why you ran away?" Dean asked walking over to his 1967 black Chevy Impala and opening the trunk to reveal a whole arsenal of demon, ghost, werewolf, vampire, and just about anything else supernatural, fighting weapons. He dug through the papers, weapons, and other clutter only to grab a shot gun and use it to prop the trunk open with.

"I was just going to college. It was Dad who said if I was gonna go I should stay gone, and that's what I'm doing," Sam answered feeling like Dean had just punched him by bringing up the huge fight he and his dad had right before Sam left to become a lawyer and try to live a normal life.

"Yeah, well, Dad's in real trouble right now—if he's not dead already. I can feel it Sam, and I can't do this alone," Dean replied trying to use a guilt trip, but Sam wasn't falling for it so easily.

"Yes, you can," Sam replied not meeting Dean's gaze because he knew that he wouldn't be able to hold onto his resolve if he did.

"Yeah, well, I don't want to," Dean replied pleadingly, and Sam didn't have to look at his brother to see it reflected in his eyes as well.

"What was he hunting?" Sam sighed in defeat.

"All right, let's see, where the hell did I put that thing?" Dean said in way of answer as he began digging through the trunk once again.

"So when Dad left, why didn't you go with him?" Sam asked mostly to fill the silence, because it was a bit awkward to suddenly see his brother again after so long.

"I was working my own gig. This uh, voodoo thing, down in New Orleans," Dean answered absently as he continued his search.

"Dad let you go on a hunting trip by yourself?" Sam asked in surprise. Their dad had never let them go on a hunting trip by themselves - or maybe it had just been Sam.

"I'm twenty six, dude," Dean stated, looking at Sam as if he'd just sprouted antlers. He then pulled out several sheets of paper and spread them out so that Sam could see. "All right, here we go. So Dad was checking out this two lane blacktop just outside of Jericho, California. About a month ago, this guy - they found his car, but he vanished, completely M.I.A."

"So maybe he was kidnapped," Sam interrupted feeling the old routine of hunting with Dean coming back to him as if he hadn't just been on a three year break.

"Yeah. Well, here's another one in April, another one in December '04, '03, '98, '92, ten of them over the past twenty years, all men, all the same five-mile stretch of road. It started happening more and more, so Dad went to go dig around. That was about three weeks ago. I haven't heard from him since, which is bad enough," Dean continued pulling out a small tape recorder. "Then I get this voicemail yesterday," he continued as he pressed play.

The recording was broken up and full of static, but it was definitely their dad's voice. "Dean... something big is starting to happen... I need to try and figure out what's going on. It may... Be very careful, Dean. We're all in danger."

"You know there's EVP on that?" Sam stated as soon as the recording was over.

"Not bad, Sammy. Kinda like riding a bike, isn't it?" Dean smirked smugly. Sam merely rolled his eyes at his brother. "All right. I slowed the message down, I ran it through a gold wave, took out the hiss, and this is what I got." Dean pressed play once again and the eerie voice of a woman immediately began to play.

_I can never go home..._

"Never go home," Sam repeated with a thoughtful frown.

Dean stood and shut the trunk of his car before leaning against it. "You know, in almost two years I've never bothered you, never asked you for a thing," he began bringing out the big guns and if Sam hadn't already caved he would have by now.

"All right. I'll go. I'll help you find him. But I have to get back first thing Monday," Sam warned, wanting Dean to understand that this would be it. He would go on this one hunt to find their father, but that was it. "Just wait here."

"What's first thing Monday?" Dean asked as Sam began to walk back to tell Jess and Harry that he would be leaving and to pack a few things.

"I have this... I have an interview," Sam answered hesitantly as he paused to look back at his brother.

"What, a job interview? Skip it," Dean replied with a careless shrug, and this had been exactly what Sam had been afraid would happen—Dean acting as if it were no big deal.

"It's a law school interview, and it's my whole future on a plate," Sam stressed wishing that his brother could just understand how important this was to him.

"Law school?" Dean questioned as if Sam has spoken it in some long forgotten language.

Sam sighed looking his brother directly in the eye. "So we got a deal, or not?"

**o0o**

Sam burst through the door and headed straight for his room, bypassing the kitchen without a glance. Harry and Jess, after exchanging quick looks, followed close behind, watching as he began to throw random clothes into a small duffel bag. Harry lessened the intensity of his listening charm so that it only zeroed in on Dean now rather than the both of them.

Harry felt guilty for listening in on Sam's conversation with his brother, but he had been _bursting _with curiosity—and if he were honest with himself, he wanted to know more about the mysterious and alluring brother who had walked into Sam's life. The news he had garnished was rather… unsettling.

Of the many things Harry had always suspected Sam of being, a _hunter _was not one of them. He had always assumed a wizard, but now that he thought about it he should have known better. Natural American magic-users were almost unheard of, all of the previous witches and wizards fleeing to other countries when their existence was discovered and Muggles began holding trials for them. Harry had never met a hunter, but they were a serious enough threat that they were discussed in Defence Against the Dark Arts, despite most of them being Muggles.

"Wait, you're taking off?" Jess asked, breaking Harry from his distracted musings. "Is this about your dad? Is he all right?"

"Yeah, you know, just a little family drama," Sam said, trying to shrug it off as nothing. If this had been any other occurrence, Harry would have believed him, but with the conversation he heard between Sam and his brother… he knew differently now.

"Your brother said he was on some kind of a hunting trip," Harry added, trying to see if Sam would say something to even hint at the conversation he had just listened in on.

Sam stiffened but relaxed a moment later. "Aw yeah, he's just deer hunting up at the cabin and he's probably got Jim, Jack, and Jose along with him. We're just gonna go bring him back." Sam's tone was light and even, but Harry could see the truth in his eyes. Sam was worried for his father, angry at his brother for dragging him back into this and disgusted with himself for having to lie about it.

"What about the interview?" Jess questioned in concern.

Sam gave her a light kiss then went for the door. "I'll make the interview. This is only for a couple of days."

"Sam, I mean, please, just stop for a second. You sure you're okay?" Jess asked, not understanding what was going on, and not knowing how to help the situation.

Sam took a steadying breath. "I'm fine."

Normally Harry would back Jess up; he wanted the best for Sam and this interview might just be his shot—but he couldn't. Not now.

"Jess, why don't you get another cup of cocoa?" Harry suggested, shooting a meaningful look in Sam's direction.

Sam knew that look; it meant that his friend wanted to talk. He also knew that Harry was stubborn when he wanted to be, and there would be no way out of any question he wanted to ask. Jess looked between the two and nodded, going into the kitchen to leave the two of them alone.

Harry walked up to Sam and said whispered in a rush, "I know you don't have time now but I think when Monday comes it's time for both of us to share a bit about our past selves. I won't lie if you don't. Be safe. I want Jess to still have a boyfriend when Monday comes, and tell that brother of yours that if he brings you back in any way damaged from this little adventure he's dragging you off on then I'll personally castrate him. I don't care how pretty he looks." Harry backed off and gave Sam a small smile.

Shocked and not the least bit confused, Sam nodded. "Alright, but protect Jess, okay? I've… Never mind, just… do this for me. Please."

"Of course," Harry said, voice low as he peered up at Sam in concern. The man just gave a final nod before turning and walking out the door, embarking on a new adventure with his brother.

**o0o**

After Harry was sure Jess was asleep he went over to his trusty trunk which had been with him since Hogwarts and pulled out the mirror Remus had given him for his birthday. Before doing anything though he looked at the clock hanging nearby. It was four AM so it should just be noon in England. Harry hoped that Remus wasn't in the middle of something as he looked in the mirror and whispered, "Remus Lupin."

The mirror shimmered, his face becoming distorted for a moment before changing to that of his Godfather. "Harry!" Remus greeted, his voice pleasantly surprised. "How are you cub? Isn't it still early there?" Harry put a finger to his lips for Remus to be quiet. "Sorry," Remus whispered, frowning in confusion.

Harry grinned. "Hi to you too Moony, and its okay, but my friend Jess is asleep in the other room." Remus eyes lighted with understanding. "Do you remember me telling you about my friend Sam?"

Remus nodded. Of course he did. He remembered being ecstatic and relieved that Harry was making friends. Remus had been so worried that Harry was only closing himself off more and further isolating himself from the world when he'd decided to leave England.

"Well he has a brother and I heard them talking earlier," Harry continued. "I think they may be hunters." Remus' eyebrows shot up.

"Are you safe?" Remus asked, looking as if he would step through the mirror to check on Harry himself.

"I'm fine," Harry said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "They don't know about me and I've never given Sam reason to suspect that I was anything more than a Muggle. Anyway, what do you know of the Winchesters?" Remus' eyes widened to comical proportions and Harry couldn't help but chuckle.

"Harry, this is serious!" Remus chastised. Harry quieted his laughter, but an amused quirk remained on his lips. "The Winchesters are a family of hunters; they're based in America and they're the best of the best. The father, John I believe, has hunted down more supernatural things than any other hunter in his generation! He has _never_ lost a fight. They say that once he decides to hunt you, its over—you're already dead. The hunt is an obsession for him." Harry snorted, unable to help himself. Remus paused, eyes narrowed.

"I'm sorry, Remus," Harry began, "but this sounds like the Wizarding version of the boogieman. No man, _especially _a Muggle, can be that dangerous."

Remus sighed, his eyes saying that Harry was still naïve if he believed that. "Harry, this is dangerous, even for you. I know you're powerful, but hunters have weapons to hunt almost anything, to trap and block magic—weapons that wizards don't even know about."

"Like guns?" Harry guessed, raising a brow.

"That and worse," Remus said, his eyes darting over to something Harry couldn't see. "I don't know more than what I've heard, but they say that John Winchester trained his son's in the craft from birth. That they are following in his footsteps. Though, I do believe that the Winchesters at least have never intentionally harmed anyone or thing innocent…" Remus looked hard at Harry when he noticed his relieved face. "You're going to tell him, aren't you? About your past—who you are?"

Harry nodded, biting his lip. "I think it's only fair; if I want information from him I have to give my own—though I did kind of spy on him, which I still feel bloody awful about. And don't worry," Harry said, when an almost panic look rose to Remus' face, "I won't give out locations or any other names unless they already know it. Anyway, I'm going to sleep; say hello to everyone and tell Teddy I love him." Remus sighed and gave a warm smile.

"Will do. You be careful, cub. I trust that you know what you're doing in telling Sam, but if what you are got around to the other hunters then it could be _very_ bad for you." Remus stared hard at him, waiting until Harry nodded before continuing. "Just make sure that his brother isn't going to turn on you, okay? I don't want you getting hurt." Again, Harry nodded. "I'll talk to you soon. I love you."

"Love you too, Moony," Harry grinned, watching as once more the mirror shimmered and changed, his own tired face staring back at him. Shaking his head, Harry stored the mirror away and made himself comfortable on his couch. He had nothing to worry about; Remus was just being his usual overprotective self.

If Sam did react badly and try to attack him—which he _knew _wouldn't happen—he could always just Apparate to somewhere safe. The one he needed to worry about was Dean. The man was a total stranger, and despite Harry being Sam's best friend, if he was as good as Remus seemed to think he was, he wouldn't hesitate to bury a bullet between Harry's eyes.

Sighing, Harry slipped into a troubled sleep.

**o0o**

**Jericho, California**

_**On the Road**_

Sam sat in the Impala at the gas station with the door open as Rambling Man played from the tape player while he rifled through a box of tapes trying to find something—_anything_ else.

"Hey! You want breakfast?" Dean called as he came out of the convenience store.

"No, thanks," Sam answered after seeing exactly what Dean had come out with, and he wasn't sure it was completely digestible. "So how'd you pay for that stuff? You and Dad still running credit card scams?"

"Yeah, well, hunting ain't exactly a pro ball career. Besides, all we do is apply, it's not our fault they send us the cards." Dean answered with exactly zero percent guilty conscience as he shoved his face with the food he'd just bought off said credit card.

"Yeah? And what names did you write on the application this time?" Sam asked partly curious, partly sarcastic. The names became more and more ridiculous each time.

"Uh, Burt Aframian. And his son Hector—scored two cards out of the deal," Dean answered smugly as he got behind the wheel and they continued on their way.

They rode in silence for a while after that until Dean's curiosity got the best of him. He'd actually lasted longer than Sam had thought he would really. "So like, this girlfriend of yours… is it like serious?" he question and Sam rolled his eyes.

"Don't even think about it Dean," Sam warned.

Dean held up a hand in surrender. "Hey, you can't blame a guy for trying. She's one hot chick. I didn't know you had it in you, but way to go little brother!" He ruffled Sam's hair just to annoy him, but Sam still couldn't help the small that twitched at the corners of his mouth. "So what about the other one, is he with you guys or—"

"What! Dean! No—_no_!" Sam exclaimed in shock that his brother would even say something like that… or perhaps he really shouldn't have been so shocked considering it was Dean. "No, Harry's my best friend, my old roommate, and we didn't want to separate so I invited him to move in with me and Jess." Dean's eyebrows began to rise so Sam tacked on, "He sleeps on the _couch_." Dean nodded, appearing satisfied though Sam didn't understand the reason why he needed to explain any of this. It was none of Dean's business.

"Okay, sorry dude. I don't pretend to know what kind of kinky shit you collage students are into these days," Dean apologized with a smirk. "But anyway. That's good to know, because he's hot, and he was totally checking me out back there—"

"No," Sam cut in once again, but this time his tone was completely serious, and even Dean knew that cracking a joke about this was out of the question. "Play with and fuck anyone you want Dean, fuck my calculus professor for all I care, but leave Harry alone. Harry's been fucked and discarded too many times and he deserves much more than that. Don't give him a reason to feel safe with you—don't give him a reason to fall in love with you."

"Is your calculus professor hot?"

"Dean! I'm serious!"

"What? You don't think I can do a relationship?" Dean asked mock offended, but Sam merely looked at him and Dean realized that this wasn't something his little brother was willing to even joke a little bit about.

"Dean, promise me you'll leave Harry alone—_promise _me," Sam insisted never taking his eyes off of Dean's face as they drove.

"Alright Sammy, I promise. I'll leave your little friend alone—but you owe me," Dean added in as Sam breathed a sigh of relief. "When we get back your girlfriend is going to introduce me to all her single friends… and that calculus professor. Deal?"

"Deal," Sam answered with a smile and a feeling of relief.

Sam had seen the way Harry had glanced at Dean when he thought no one was looking—infatuated at first sight. But Sam also knew Dean, and Dean was not the kind of person Harry was looking for. Harry longed for a relationship so badly that he was prone to latch onto the first person to show him even a small bit of attention and affection. It was this which had led to many of Harry's one night stands and heartbreaks when the person left the next morning without so much as a goodbye.

Harry wanted what he and Jessica had. Harry wanted someone to love, someone to belong to him and someone he could belong to, and Sam knew that if Dean allowed it, if Dean encouraged it, Harry would fall for him—because Dean was easy to fall in love with. Sam had seen it happen a million times before—people taken in by Dean's devastating good looks, natural charisma, cocky confidence, and swaggering charm, but unfortunately what those people usually found out the next morning was that Dean Winchester didn't, and would never, belong to anyone.

"Dude you seriously need some more music," Sam stated deciding to change the subject and try and lighten the mood. Dean looked at him as if he'd just ripped the head off of his favorite teddy bear. "Well for one they're cassette tapes, and two, they're all Black Sabbath, Motorhead, Metallica… it's like shifting through the greatest hits of mullet rock," Sam tried to explain, but Dean merely snatched the cassette box out of Sam's hands as if he'd offended it, and pulled out a tape.

"Well, house rules, Sammy. Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole," Dean replied as he popped in _AC/DC_, and immediately _"Back in Black"_ began blaring from the speakers.

"You know, Sammy is a chubby twelve-year-old. It's Sam, okay?" was all Sam could think of to come back with, but if he was going to have to listen to Dean's music then he wasn't going to put up with being called Sammy. He'd always hated that nickname.

Dean smirked. "Sorry, I can't hear you, the music's too loud!"

**o0o**

**Palo Alto, California**

_**Apartment Complex**_

Harry's weekend was spent keeping Jessica calm and reassuring her that Sam was perfectly capable of dressing himself. He had spent every day since Sam's departure with Jess and he was about ready to pull his hair out. He loved Jess to death, but her constant nagging, obsessive cleaning and just all around anxiety was reminding Harry why he preferred men over women—of course cock had a lot to do with that too, but that was beside the point.

Harry couldn't wait until Sam got home, and it had absolutely nothing to do with seeing Sam's older brother again, or so Harry told himself. As big of a jerk as Harry realized Dean Winchester was, he couldn't deny that he felt a tingle of anticipation at the thought of seeing the older man again. There was just something about him that drew Harry in despite the fact that there were a million and one reason why Harry shouldn't get involved with him.

"Harry, can you get the phone!" Jess' voice shouted from the bathroom startling Harry out of his thoughts of Dean.

Harry blushed in embarrassment even though there was no one around and picked up the phone he hadn't even noticed was ringing. "Hello," he answered, hoping his voice didn't sound off.

"Hey, Harry its Sam. Is Jess around?" Sam asked from the other end and Harry sighed in relief. He would have been lying if he said he hadn't been worried about his best friend off hunting Merlin knew what.

"She's taking a bath; do you want me to bring her the phone?" Harry asked already standing up and making his way toward the bathroom.

"Yeah, if you don't mind—" Sam began, but he was cut off by a choking noise.

"Dude you're just going to let him walk in on your girl all naked and wet!" Harry heard Dean exclaim and realized that Sam must have had him on speaker phone.

Harry could just imagine Sam's signature eye roll. "Harry's gay you moron."

"Oh… yeah I knew that," was Dean's embarrassed reply and Harry snorted in amusement. There was just something that was all together adorable about Dean Winchester.

Harry tapped on the bathroom door before opening it, sticking his head in. "Hey Jess, Sam's on the phone. He wants to talk to you."

"Oh, can you put him on speaker phone?" she asked, neither of them bothered by her state of undress. "I'm doing my nails," Jess explained, holding both hands above the water to keep them dry. Harry pressed the speaker button and sat the phone on the sink before turning to walk out.

"Could you stay?" Jess called, making him halt. "I was going to see if you could wash my hair for me."

"Sure," Harry replied with a shrug as he knelt down beside the tub and reached for the shampoo bottle. He had gotten used to being treated like one of the girls with Jess. She trusted him implicitly and he just rolled with it. At first it had been awkward, but like all things, it became more natural the longer they knew each other and spent time together.

"Dude!" Harry heard Dean exclaim once again and chuckled as he heard Sam shushing him in annoyance.

"I just wanted to call and let you guys know that I'm coming home tomorrow," Sam said and Harry could feel Jessica's body relax as she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Was your dad okay?" she asked, tilting her head back as Harry began to lather her hair with shampoo.

"No, we didn't find him," Sam answered and though he tried to hide it, Harry's trained ears could hear the worry laced in his voice.

"So you're just giving up?" Harry asked, voice incredulous. Surely Sam wouldn't give up on finding his own father.

"No, Dean's going to keep looking, but I've got to get back and prepare for my interview—"

"But Sam he's your family—your blood," Harry blurted out, unable to stop himself.

"Exactly!" Harry heard Dean yell in agreement from the other side.

"Shut up Dean!" Sam hissed. "Look Harry you don't know the whole story okay—"

"You're right, I don't know the whole story, but I do know that your dad could be in trouble and you're just going to abandon him!" Harry hissed, growing angry. Harry had given up so much for those he loved and they weren't even his real blood. He couldn't understand how Sam could abandon his own father for an interview.

Jess placed a soothing hand on his arm, her eyes shining in concern. "Sam's not giving up, Harry, he's just being realistic. There's not much more he can do beside let the police hand it; besides, Dean will be looking so they'll find him." Her logical words managed to smooth Harry's frayed nerves and by the astonished silence from the other end of the phone, she had taken the wind out of the two brother's sails as well.

"You're right," Harry said, looking down at her with a smile. "I'm sorry," he apologized, turning to look at the phone as though Sam could see him, "I just… I've never had close blood family, so…"

Sam sighed, his voice low and regretful as well. "No, _I'm _sorry. I never really explained it to you so of course you'd be worried."

"How about you _both _stop being such girls before I puke up my lunch?" The disgusted comment came from, of course, Dean, and Harry stared down at the phone in outrage. Harry was sure that Sam's look no doubt mirrored his own.

Before Harry could recover enough to give Dean a biting response, Sam beat him to it. "Just because you don't have a sympathetic bone in your body doesn't mean you can get away with being such an ass, Dean." The eldest brother made a sound of protest but Sam spoke, cutting him off. "Sorry guys, but we have to go. Love you Jess!"

"Love you Sam!" Jess called, splashing water in her haste to respond. Harry gave her a look of half-annoyance, half-amusement while giving his own goodbyes.

Dean's voice piped up, "See ya sexy Jessy, Ha—" Sam hung up, leaving the two in the bathroom to stare at each other before bursting into chuckles.

"Sam's brother is a… really interesting guy," Jess commented.

Harry snorted. "That's putting it nicely. He's a total insensitive prat if you ask me."

"Yeah, but he's _hot_."

Gaping, Harry had to steady himself on the edge of the tub. Her offhanded comment caught him off guard and he stared down at her, eyes wide in shock. "Jess!"

"What?" she asked, blinking her eyes in false innocence. "I love Sam but I'm not _blind_. Come on Harry, you've got to agree."

Harry shook his head, wondering how Sam would feel to learn that not only was his _best friend _infatuated with his brother, but it seemed as if his girlfriend was taking notice as well. "Yeah, although it _pains _me to say it—he is hot."

Jess held up the forgotten shampoo bottle and waved it with purpose. Rolling his eyes, Harry grabbed the bottle from her and poured a glob of the purple thick liquid into his hands and rubbed them together. She released a small hum when he began kneading his hands into her hair, her eyes closing.

"I think he likes you," Jess said, relaxing into her bubble bath. Harry's hands stilled for a moment before resuming their ministrations, his eyes crinkled in consideration.

"Really?" he asked, praying his voice wasn't as hopeful as he feared it to be. Jess poured a handful of water over her head, washing away the suds. She made sure that none would get into her eyes before opening them, an almost devious grin on her face.

"You like him, don't you?"

His promise to wash her hair fulfilled, Harry stood from the bathtub and tried to look as nonchalant as possible. By Jess's amused stare, he wasn't succeeding. "Who, me?" He snorted. "Not bloody likely."

"Aw, come on," she needled, standing from the tub. Harry turned his back to be polite and headed for the doorway. "You can tell me!"

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "Goodnight, crazy lady," he said, throwing her a short wave before closing the door behind him. He could still hear Jess's pleas for him to tell her but he ignored them with purpose, going into the living room and plopping down on the couch.

If Jess was able to see it, he must have been ogling Dean pretty hard—not that he would deny it, at least not to himself. Though the man was insufferable and seemed adamant on destroying any sentimental mood, there was just _something _about him, besides his ridiculous attractiveness of course. But men like that? They just didn't go for people like Harry.

Sighing, he spread out on the couch and closed his eyes, mischievous hazel eyes and a cocky grin appearing behind his lids.

**o0o**

When Sunday rolled around Harry helped Jess make a welcome home dinner for Sam; Jess knew her way around the kitchen, but growing up in one as Harry had, she wasn't quite as good as he. Most days it was either he or Jess who cooked, Sam being unable to prepare more than a bowl of cereal, but when they worked together, it was a sight. They prepared all of Sam's favorites and then stored them away to be reheated when Sam returned home—whenever that was.

Jess was still worried, but with Harry there he was able to take her mind off of Sam and get her to do other things, such as _finally _caving under her constant nagging and watching _The Notebook_. It was a horrid movie and he could barely sit still during it but Jess cried like a baby and Harry comforted her, thinking that Sam would owe him _big _when he returned.

Now Jess was in her and Sam's bedroom. She claimed she wanted to "tidy up a bit" before Sam returned and Harry just knew that the only way he would be getting to sleep would be with a pillow covering his ears.

It was late at night as Harry glanced out the window, taking in the city of Palo Alto in all its glory. Not much was going on in the road below them, street lights dotted along the side walk, but it was a comforting sight somehow, seeing all the blending colors as they seemed to bleed into one. He was just about to turn away when he saw a sleek black car park outside the apartment—the same car which Sam had rode off in with his brother.

"Jess!" Harry cried, watching as two dots got out of the car. He knew Sam's familiar mop of hair from a distance, and even Dean somehow managed to present a striking image. "Jess! Sam's home!" He grinned, turning away from the window and rushed toward her and Sam's bedroom. While he was happy at his best friend's arrival, there was a brief pang in his chest at the thought of never seeing Dean again. Harry knew that it was just a stupid crush, an infatuation that would lead to nowhere, and would hopefully be gone the minute Dean drove away—but then why did the thought make Harry's chest ache? He reached Jess's door and pulled on the doorknob but was met with resistance. It was locked.

"Jess? What are you doing in there?" They had become pretty tight nit during their months together, and because they lived in such close quarters, privacy was almost thrown out the window. Harry had seen Sam and Jess naked more times than he would have liked and the same could be said for them. Harry gave them privacy when needed, but with Sam gone, he couldn't guess why Jess would lock herself in her room.

Frowning, he pressed his ear against the door and knocked. "Jess?"

Just faintly he heard what might have been a thump followed by a whimper. He didn't know why, but coldness was spreading through his insides, making his heart race and his voice come out louder in worry. "Jess? Are you in there? Answer me!" Again he waited, but was met with silence. Growling, he removed his wand from its holster and pointed it at the doorknob. "Alohamora!"

There was a click, signifying the spell had worked and he kicked open the door, darkness greeting him. From the light that poured in through the open window, he could just make out a figure—a figure that was far too tall and broad shouldered to be Jess.

"Who the hell are you?" Harry snarled, his wand pointed at the man.

They chuckled, adjusting the dark suit they wore and running a hand through their hair. "Don't you recognize me, Harry?"

Eyes narrowed, Harry gave the man a once over, trying to make out details in the dark. It was hard, but… "_Brady?_" he choked out, his wand wavering but not lowering. He hadn't seen the man in a little under a year, but it was no doubt him. His hair was cut short on his head instead of wild as he had worn it during college, and the smart black suit he wore was at odds with the casual wear Brady was known for. On the man's feet were a pair of polished black dress shoes and he even wore a _tie—_Brady wouldn't have worn a tie to his own funeral.

Brady just inclined his head, a pleasant smile on his face.

"Okay then," Harry snarled, stepping into the room, not taking his eyes off the man. "What the hell are you doing in _our _house and where's Jess?" He looked around the room, seeing no sign of her. Harry was _positive _she had been in her room…

"Oh, Jessica? She's here, just… hanging around." Brady laughed, a teasing grin on his face. "Listen, you caught me at a bad time; I was in the middle of—"

"Where the hell is Jess you bloody bastard?" Harry bit out, having no time to put up with whatever Brady was trying to pull. As far as he knew, Brady was just a normal Muggle, but to everyone else, so was Harry.

Brady sighed and stared up at the ceiling. "I told you, she's here; she always _did _have her head up in the clouds." Scowling, Harry was about to just curse the man when movement from the top of the room caught his eye. Slowly, he let his eyes travel upward, _praying _with all his heart that his sudden fear would be unfounded.

"Oh god," Harry breathed, his wand dropping from his limp fingers, unwilling to believe what he was seeing. Jess was there, somehow stuck to the ceiling. Her mouth and eyes were open, face the picture of terror and she stared at him, tears streaming down her face. There was a gash on her stomach that was seeping into the shirt she wore, staining it with blood.

"Look, I don't have a lot of time for this, so..." Brady raised a single hand, and before Harry knew it his back was colliding with a wall, invisible wisps of power keeping him in place. He struggled in vain from his position, his eyes never leaving Jess as her eyes pleaded for help.

"What are you, you bastard?" Harry hissed, focusing on Brady who just stared at him in amusement. "I swear if you harm one hair on her head I'll—"

Brady snorted. "A little too late for that, don't cha think?" He stared up at the helpless girl and raised his hand, ignoring Harry's warning growls. He pointed a single finger and Jess gasped in pain, her eyes growing wide. Then, as if performing laser surgery, his hand began to drag sideways, a slow wound being carved into Jess's skin.

"No, stop!" Harry screamed once he realized what was happening. He was killing her! Once again, someone who was important to him was going to die and once again it would be his _fault_. They were right in front of him—if only he could struggle free… if only he had his _wand_. A scream of pure fury and frustration pulsed through Harry, a wave of energy exploding out of him and breaking the bonds restraining him. The magic streaked across the room, lifting Brady from his feet and slamming him into the wall, denting it. The man fell to the ground with a groan but he wasn't out; already he was stirring.

Harry climbed to his feet and picked up his wand, rushing over to Jess's side and cradling her in his arms. At last Brady pulled himself to his feet, his eyes darting toward the open bedroom door. He cursed and without a moment's notice rushed toward the window and jumped through it, the sound of the glass shattering like knives to Harry ears. He didn't check to see if Brady was a smear on the pavement, instead he focused on the limp girl in his arms.

"Jess?" he called, voice tight. He received no answer. His throat constricted, air struggling to make it to his lungs and he chocked, a burning beginning behind his eyes. "Jess, love, please wake up," he whispered, tears pouring down his cheeks to land on her face—at least now the terror had left her expression, her eyes closed in what might have been in a peaceful sleep.

There was a bang as the front door opened, but Harry paid it no mind. Even when he heard Sam come into the room and gasp in shock, he didn't release his tight hold on the still warm body. Sam took slow step toward the pair, his eyes widened in a growing sense of horror.

"Jess?" Sam asked, a fearful quake to his voice. He reached the bed and sank down onto it opposite Harry, his eyes falling to the blood staining her once white t-shirt. Sam reached forward to pull the woman into his arms and Harry let him, standing up from the bed and watching with listless eyes as Sam rocked his girlfriend to him. Tears were gathering in Sam's warm brown eyes and Harry just couldn't _take _it.

Why? Why had this happened? Was he just destined to bring about death and destruction—no matter _where _he went? As he watched the tear's fall from his best friend and saw the silent shaking of the man's shoulder, he couldn't stop the self-loathing that welled within him.

If only he hadn't come to Stanford, then maybe his rotten luck wouldn't have touched them. If only he had decided to check on Jess _sooner_. If only he had been just a bit quicker in breaking free of his bonds, then…

Sam threw back his head and screamed, a choked mourning sound that rocked Harry to the core. Harry closed his eyes, able to hear the pain and loss of his best friend and knowing there was nothing he could do about it. When Sam pulled back from Jess his eyes were as cold and fierce as a blizzard. He stood to his feet, those eyes turning and pinning Harry where he stood.

"What did you do?" Sam hissed, taking a purposeful step toward him. Harry shook his head, his heart in his throat and unable to speak. "What the _fuck_ did you do!" Sam roared, rushing forward to pin him to the wall, his arm pressed into Harry's throat, cutting off his air supply.

"Sam…my…" Harry managed to choke out, clawing at the arm choking him but not having the strength to free himself. If he really wanted to, he could have his magic throw itself at Sam, but he didn't want to hurt the man. And in a way, he _deserved _this. It _was _his fault, and his inability to protect Jess had cost her life.

His vision began to darken at the edges, his fingers losing their strength. Just when he was about to slip into the almost welcome embrace of unconsciousness, air returned to his lung and he slumped to his knees, drawing in deep gasping breath's despite himself. Each intake of air hurt his sensitive throat but he didn't _care_.

"Sammy!" someone was saying. "Sammy, calm down!"

"Let me—let me _go_! Jess! Jess is _dead_!"

"I know, but—fuck, Sam! Calm down!"

"Dammit, Dean! He was supposed to _protect _her!"

"_Sammy_!"

When Harry finally had the strength to look up, Sam was staring down at him in hatred, the dark look in his eyes breaking Harry's already fragile heart to pieces. Dean had Sam restrained, the taller man struggling in his brother's hold to once more launch himself at Harry. Sam hated him and Jess was dead, her murderer having escaped or committed suicide. He looked away from Sam's gaze, unable to take those accusing eyes boring into him.

"Listen to me, Sam," Dean said, tone strong and forceful, "I don't think this kid killed your girlfriend."

Again Sam thrashed, looking as if he would actually _kill _Harry if set free. "What the hell do you mean, Dean?" Sam snarled. "Harry was the only one here!"

"_No_," Dean growled, not giving his brother an inch. "After you left, I was about to drive off when I saw someone jump out of a window—_that _window," he said, gesturing to the broken bedroom window. Sam's intense look cooled but it was obvious he wasn't satisfied.

"Don't be stupid! No one could survive a fall from that height."

Dean nodded, stepping back enough to let Sam move freely, but watching his brother in case he tried to attack again. "Yeah, that's what I thought; at least until I saw the guy pull himself to his feet and take off down the street." He shook his head, still in disbelief of the amazing leap. "I chased after him, but he got away."

"You're saying some _superman _killed Jess?" Sam choked, as if Dean had suggested that the sky was snowing cotton candy.

"Stranger things have happened," he muttered, turning to stare down at Harry. The man had been silent while they talked, but he had been watching the whole thing, his eyes glassy and containing a haunted quality. "Hey, you alright?"

Harry stared a moment before nodding, shooting uncertain glances at Sam who wouldn't meet his gaze. Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair, taking in the scene.

"We need to call the police and then get out of here," Dean said, his forehead creasing as he thought.

Sam jerked as if he was slapped and turned to his brother. "I'm _not _leaving Jess." His stance was firm and Dean had no doubt that he would fight tooth and nail if Dean tried to move him by force. They couldn't _stay_, nor could they move the body. Already they had tampered with the crime scene too much and they would be prime suspects.

"Fine," Dean sighed, taking out his cell phone to call the police. "But I'm saying it now: if we somehow end up in jail, Harry's my bitch."


	4. Interlude pt1

**A/N: ***collapses*

I am awed and amazed at the response this story has gotten so far. And I'm glad I set a update schedule for every Sunday because I am lagging behind when it comes to writing... Haha. Other stuff has been capturing my attention and writing just sort of took a backseat. Hopefully I got back on the wagon but... who knows?

Anyway, enough about that! What I'm sure you're all excited for is this new chapter. As I've already said, I'll let the chapter speak for itself. Sometimes errors and things get through, so if you find any, don't be afraid to point em out.

* * *

**Interlude - Part One**

**Palo Alto, California**

_**Apartment Complex - Motel**_

Dean's unneeded comment of making Harry his prison bitch aside, the questioning had gone far smoother than any of them had hoped. After several minutes of tense silence, the flashing lights outside the apartment alerted them to the arrival of the police and paramedics, and within moments the place was swamped, uniformed men swarming throughout the room and making Dean shift with unease.

Sam watched stone faced as Jess was carried away in a black body bag, a cold gleam to his eyes that promised retribution. Not once did he turn his gaze in Harry's direction, but the younger man felt the brutal sting of the dismissal all the same.

The police questioned each of them separately, Harry taking the longest since he had been present when the incident occurred. He still didn't know _what _he had seen, so it was hard for him to explain it to the police—and a Muggle one at that. He told them of how he had been concerned because Jess never locked the door and how he had kicked it open to find her already in the process of being murdered; he didn't know if they believed him, but until they had further proof, there was nothing they could do. Even then, Harry didn't know if he planned on sticking around to _be_ pursued.

It was almost laughable really. To all outside observers, _he _was the prime suspect when he had been trying to help… The real culprit was _Brady_; the man who jumped from a four story building and remained unharmed enough to run away. The police officer's disbelief had been evident, but with Dean backing his story as an outside observer, they had no choice but to accept it.

Then there was the supposed "murder weapon." Even now the policemen were scouring the building, looking for something that didn't exist. Even Harry who had seen it with his own _eyes _didn't know what happened. Without a wand, Brady had been flinging around energy that was more potent than Harry's own magic. Thinking about it just made Harry's head and heart hurt, so he stopped, instead staring out at the blurring scenery as they drove.

Inside the car, there was complete silence, Dean behind the wheel and Sam appearing imposing in the passenger seat. Harry had half expected them to start drilling him for answers the moment they were in the car, but it seemed the eldest brother needed to get his thoughts in order just as much as Sam and Harry did. Dean didn't yet trust Harry but was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt since Sam had ruined their "good cop, bad cop" routine by turning his back on Harry.

Dean hoped that Harry was a good guy, if only because Sam shouldn't have to lose anyone else—it had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Dean was attracted to him more than he'd ever been attracted to anyone before. Dean decided to ignore that little fact and just pretend like he was only hoping for Sammy's sake.

At last Dean pulled into a rather questionable motel and dragged Harry with him to go pay for a room. The receptionist gave them an odd stare, but Dean didn't care. He wasn't letting Harry out of his sight for even a second—not until he got some answers; also, he was afraid if he left Sam and Harry alone, one of them would end up dead or injured.

When they got in their room, Sam went into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. Harry stared after him, his lip between his teeth and words of apologies in his throat. Yet, he knew how useless they would be; it wouldn't change facts. Jess was dead and he had been unable to protect her.

Sighing, Harry sat on the edge of one of the two queen sized beds. Dean looked at him a moment before striding over to the bathroom door and knocking.

"Sammy? You okay in there?"

Harry heard the sink turn on and Dean slumped, thinking he would be ignored. However, seconds later the door opened a crack and the two stared as Sam emerged, face blank but at least calmer than he had appeared before. During the car ride, the man had looked as if he would explode at any second, his rage and pain seeming to saturate the very air.

After giving them both bland looks, Sam walked over to the far edge of the room—as far from Harry as possible—and pressed his back against it, his arms folded over his chest. Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head.

"Geez, I'm not good at playing the good cop," he muttered before sobering, turning to stare serious eyes at Harry. "Alright then. First question: did you kill Jess?"

Harry looked at Sam and the man was pinning him with a dark gaze, sending a shiver down his spine. Turning back to Dean, he shook his head, his breath nothing more than a whisper when he spoke, "No."

Dean flashed a look toward his brother but the man's expression stayed the same. "I believe you," he said, giving a small smile at the grateful look Harry sent his way. Normally it would be Sam doing the comforting, but with the man in a funk as he was, it was left up to Dean to _try _and be compassionate. "Next question: what _did _kill Jess?"

"I…" Harry bit his lip and stared at his lap, his hands tightening into fists. "I don't know," he choked out. "I _think _it was a human, but… I just don't know." Not looking up, he muttered under his breath, "It was Brady." Dean frowned in confusion but Sam finally reacted, pressing off from the wall and staring with his eyes wide in outrage.

"_Brady_?" he demanded, searching Harry's face for lies. Harry stared up at him, his eyes and face showing how earnest he was being.

"It was Brady," Harry repeated. "But… at the same time, no _way _was that Brady… He felt different somehow, like…" He trailed off, staring at his friend with meaningful eyes. The taller man caught on after only a beat.

"Like he was after Thanksgiving break…" Harry nodded and Dean scratched his head, lost as the two proceeded without him.

"Uh, hello?" he called, drawing their attention. "What are you two talking about? Who the hell is Brady?"

Sam gave a tired sigh and rubbed his eyes. "He was my best friend at Stanford, but he dropped out around a year ago. It was like he just… became a different person. I…" He shook his head, turning and pacing inside a small radius.

"So you think this Brady kid was… what?" Dean asked, his gaze switching between the two of them. "Possessed?"

"Possessed," Harry parroted, his eyes closed in thought. "That would be one way to say it, but… I don't know. I have another theory as well." Dean waited on him to elaborate, but when he saw that information wasn't forthcoming released a small growl.

"Well, what? Out with it!"

Harry stared up at Sam, but the man was looking at the wall, his eyes shadowed and distant. He wanted… no, _needed _Sam to hear this. "Sammy?" he called, voice no more than a whisper but the man heard it and turned to stare at him, mouth drawn down in a frown. Coughing, Harry strengthened his voice and continued, "Do you remember what I said to you on that night? …That night you left with your brother and you asked me to protect Jess?" At the mention of his departed girlfriend Sam's eyes turned cold but still he nodded. "Well, I said once you came back… there would be no more secrets between us; if you told the truth then so would I."

Sam and Dean's curiosity was palpable, but they remained silent, letting him gather himself before he revealed the secret that may very well cost him his life. Harry took in a calming breath. "Ok, so what do you guys know about wizards?" As soon as the word _wizard_ left his mouth Harry found himself doubled over and unable to breath, a pain the likes of which he had never felt before assaulting him. It felt like his own magic had rose against him and was choking him, squeezing the life from his very _soul_ and the more he tried to push or use it the worse it became. A pained cry left his throat, his muscles spasming as electricity raced through his veins.

"Dean! Dean stop!" Harry heard Sam shouting, and faintly Harry could hear Dean muttering something in a language he couldn't understand.

Dean did as he was asked and the pain tormenting Harry disappeared. Still he jerked from the aftereffects, his muscles screaming in protest as he tried to _move—_to get away from this person who was able to strip away his very magic and leave him a vulnerable whimpering mess. Even Voldemort had never resorted to such painful torture, the Cruciatus hurting in only a physical sense. What Dean had done to him… it was as if his magic was trying to rip apart his very core, to break him from the inside and leave nothing behind but a hallowed shell.

Harry took in a few gasping breaths, rearing back in fear when Sam reached out to touch him. Now he understood Remus's words of warnings and why hunters were feared enough by the wizarding world to have portions of their Defence books dedicated to them. For the first time in a while Harry was truly afraid of something… or rather some_one_.

"What—what did you do?" Harry managed to gasp out, scooting back on the bed until he reached the headboard, trembling despite his best efforts to get his body under control. He'd never heard of any spell that could do that. No wizard had ever been able to turn another wizard's magic against them; wizards didn't exactly want a spell floating around that could do that, otherwise Harry imagined there would be _four _unforgivable curses rather than three.

"That was a warning," Dean snarled, holding Harry at gunpoint. A shiver ran down Harry's spine, not at the gun nor at Dean's cold look, but at the thought that he had only been _warned_. If Dean had really wanted to hurt him, or worse, _kill _him, then the pain inflicted upon him… he didn't even want to _imagine _it.

Sam stood between them and held out a hand for Dean to stop. "Dean—Dean calm down," he said, hands raised as Dean didn't lower his gun. "We don't know what kind of wizard he is yet," Sam argued, the sight of seeing Harry in so much pain having almost wounded him physically.

"Dude, what the hell?" Dean snarled, glaring at Harry around his tall brother. "Just an hour ago you were ready to kill the little bastard yourself, and now you're _defending _him?"

"…I regret that," Sam said, not turning to see the look on Harry's face. "I overreacted and should have listened to his explanation before jumping to conclusions. Just like _you _should now Dean."

"The _good _little witches and wizard don't exactly live around here Sammy. I mean there are, what, how many colonies of them in America? _Two_? What are the odds of us coming across a good one here," Dean reasoned never taking his eyes or gun off of Harry. "How do we know he didn't plan this all along… take out the Winchester brothers… Tell me what's the bounty on our heads, huh? How much power did they offer to give you for taking us out?"

"Dean, Harry's from Britain, or haven't you noticed his accent?" Sam asked. "Europe has a far larger population of natural wizards."

"That could all be part of his cover," Dean replied. "He could be faking it to throw us off."

Harry shook his head, growing indignant despite the fact that Dean scared him shitless. "I'm not—" Harry began to protest, but Dean cocked his gun and Harry's mouth closed with a snap.

"No spells, no crazy voodoo, or I pull the trigger, got it?" the hunter warned and Harry nodded his head, glancing at Sam. "Now start talking—and if you speak in chants or some other shit I'll plaster your brains across the walls."

Harry grimaced, but knew he had no choice. He had known this was a possibility when he decided to come clean to Sam; however, he hadn't factored in Dean being a crazy psycho prat. If he didn't have such a stupid infatuation on him, Harry was sure he would find it easy to hate the man. Before he could speak, Sam beat him to the punch.

"Harry," Sam began, glancing at him with a downtrodden frown, "I've never pushed you for answers—the nightmares, the odd things you say or do when you have them—I've never asked about it. I've always known though, at least on some level, that you weren't normal. I can see it in your eyes and even feel it in my _soul_. You've seen things—things that Dean and I can't even imagine probably. I know you're not like other humans—if you are even human…" Sam trailed off, his eyes pleading.

"I'm human," Harry assured him, lips quirking up into a small smile. Sam nodded and gave an empty smile of his own.

"You've been one of my best friends for the last two years, even though I think we both knew we had secrets we were keeping from each other… hell, from _everyone_. You know mine now; I'm not sure exactly how you do…" Sam trailed off again looking at Harry with slight suspicion. Harry at least had the grace to appear sheepish. "Even so… I'm not going to make you tell me yours." Dean moved to protest, but Sam held up a hand. "You can walk out that door right now, forget what you know about Dean and I, and never look back… but," Sam continued glancing at his brother then at his friend. "I can't promise you anything should our paths cross again."

Harry looked down at the floor and frowned in thought. Sam was letting him choose. They would let him leave without a word but would hunt him if ever they crossed paths again, or Harry could stay, tell them what he was, and hope they didn't kill him right now—and watching Dean, Harry wouldn't put it past him. Harry looked at Sam and then at Dean and felt his heart sink at the thought of never seeing either of them again while at the same time fearful of what they might do should he stay.

"Can I ask a question first?" Harry asked, not looking up to meet either of their gazes. The two brothers exchanged glances.

"Sure, Harry, anything," Sam said.

"Why would you hunt me?"

Sam replied with a startled "What?" while Dean gave a snort and said with confidence, "Because you're an evil soul-selling son of a bitch."

"Am I?" Harry questioned, still not looking up to meet their gaze. Dean blinked, unsure as how to deal with the sudden question and looked to Sam. The taller man just shrugged, a concerned look on his face. "It's just, this reminds me of the prejudice back in the Wizarding World," Harry said, brushing a bang from his face and finally staring forward. He pinned Dean to the spot with his gaze, no sign of fear evident. "You're just like the pureblooded elitist, Dean."

Dean drew back in outrage, scowling. "I'm nothing like you baby-murdering psychos."

Harry snorted. "So now I murder babies," he sighed. "You know, my Godfather Remus is a werewolf." The brothers stiffened, their minds taking them to the worst conclusion possible. "You know I'm not infected, Sam," Harry told them, amused at their reactions, "but how you guys treat me now, I wonder… If you were to run into him and learned he was a werewolf, would you kill him?"

"Yes," Dean said without hesitation. Sam turned a sharp look toward his brother and then stared at Harry, his heart plummeting as he saw the younger man's eyes turn cold.

"Then I guess I've made my decision," Harry shrugged, scooting off the bed and striding toward the door. For some reason, even though he had given him the choice, Sam didn't want them to part—not like this, on such a sour note.

"Harry, wait!" he called, in front of his friend with a few sort strides, blocking him from the door. "If… if your Godfather never hurt anyone, we wouldn't kill him."

Harry quirked a single brow and threw a look at Dean around Sam. "Is this true?" The man grimaced but nodded, keeping his tongue in check. Harry's eyes flashed with hurt and he stared down at the ground, his hair shielding his eyes. "But you would hunt me without hesitation, despite the fact that I've done nothing wrong?"

"Harry—" Sam tried, but was stopped when Harry glared at him in anger, his eyes smoldering. Tears were gathering in his eyes but he held them back with purpose, his teeth bared.

"I… I thought we were _friends, _Sam." He then looked at Dean and the man looked away, appearing the slightest bit chastised. Scowling, he once more turned to Sam. "Even when I learned you were a hunter, I didn't head for the hills because… I thought that no matter _what _we were or _what _we had done in the past, that wouldn't change us being friends." Sam had no words, his head hung in shame as every word Harry spoke impacted him with the force of a boxer's punch. "But I guess I was wrong…"

Sam shook his head, not sure if he could take losing _two _of the most important people in his life at once. Desperate, he grabbed Harry's shoulders and stared down at the man, his face showing all the self-disgust and remorse he felt. "Harry, _please_. You're right—I… I've been a terrible friend; just don't… just don't leave…"

Harry stared at the ground, once more biting his lip, and this time Dean had the common sense to keep his lips sealed. This was important to Sammy—_Harry _was important to Sammy, and if his brother lost a friend because of his big mouth or reckless actions then… he wasn't sure he would ever be forgiven.

"Okay," Harry said at last, releasing an explosive breath outward. Sam sagged in relief, a genuine smile on his face as he looked down at his friend. Harry met his stare, a small grin on his face as well. The moment was interrupted by a less than subtle cough from the other side of the room. The two turned, staring at Dean with matching deadpan stares.

"I'm sorry as well," Dean muttered, not meeting anyone's gaze. Sam gaped in outright shock while Harry just smiled and accepted the apology. "Now that all the mushy shit is outta the way, can we _please _get on with the explanations?"

Sam sighed in exasperation and Harry rolled his eyes, however, underneath Harry's annoyance was gratitude and small hint of fondness for the man. He wasn't quite over being _tortured_, but Harry just knew that an apology was a big thing for Dean, and to get one meant a lot. Nodding, Harry went back over to the bed and sat, Sam joining him, a reassuring presence at his side.

Harry cleared his throat and began, "Well then, as I guess you know, there are certain types of witches and wizards who were actually born with magic rather than making deals to get it. There was a Wizarding War going on in Europe about two years ago that maybe you have heard of…" Harry trailed off glancing at Sam who nodded his head. "The Dark Lord thought that wizards should rule, but he was nothing more than a megalomaniac, and after years of war he was finally defeated two years ago by a young wizard named Harry Potter. He was considered the savior of the Wizarding World from the time he was a baby, because he survived a killing curse from this Dark Lord that that was supposed to be impossible to survive. They called him the Boy-Who-Lived."

"Well that's a creative name," Dean mumbled and Harry snorted. "So what does any of this have to do with you?"

Harry took another breath. "I'd like to introduce myself properly. My name is Harry. Harry James Potter. Also known as Lord Potter-Black, the Boy-Who-Lived, the savior of the Wizarding world, the Golden Boy, and the Man-Who-Defeated-You-Know-Who… ridiculous titles, I know. I didn't come up with them," Harry added as the two brothers simply stared at him.

"So who's Harry Evans Black?" Sam mumbled. Harry's eyes softened when he could see the slight hurt in Sam's eyes and felt a pang of guilt for lying about his real name, but at the time it had seemed like a good idea to change it.

"Harry is my real first name; Evans was my mother's maiden name. Black was the last name of my late Godfather, Sirius, and is legally one of my last names although it's not widely known in the Wizarding World that he adopted me before his death. I decided to change my middle and last names so that I could blend in with the Muggles—uh, normal humans—better. Harry is a rather common name in your world, as is Black, so if any wizard tried to find me it would make it harder for them."

"So you were born with your powers… how do we know you're telling the truth?" Dean questioned. Although things appeared to have settled between them, Dean still held his gun at his side in what Harry hoped was an unconscious gesture and not because he planned on using it.

"I uh, have a wand," Harry said summoning it to his hands so that they could see. Sam reached for it, but then paused to look at Harry for permission. Harry gave it with a nod of his head and held the wand out to Sam who took it with hesitant fingers.

"It looks authentic," Sam said, turning the wand over in his hands and studying it with fascination. He'd heard of these kinds of wizards, but he'd never actually met one before.

"You don't do any of that dark side stuff, do you?" Dean asked as Sam shot him a glare.

"Even if you don't believe him Dean, then trust me. Harry's been my friend for two years now. I think I would have noticed by now if he was dabbling in the dark stuff, not to mention that if he had wanted to do something to me he's had plenty of chances," Sam shot back and more of Dean's doubt bled away. He did trust Sam's judgment, but even so he was going to go into this cautiously.

"So why here? How did you just happen to end up at the same college as Sammy—his best friend no less?" Dean asked still not fully convinced.

Harry laughed and shook his head. "It was actually Sam who befriended me—I actually tried to get rid of him." Sam and he shared a smile of remembrance. "But, there was… _something _about him that was… familiar, I guess?"

Sam nodded, taking over when Dean appeared alarmed. "Yeah, even now I feel it—this _connection _with Harry. It's… hard to put into words, but I wouldn't call it anything _bad_." Dean nodded, knowing that Sam would be more cautious if he thought whatever it was he felt was harmful.

"Anyway," Harry picked up, "as for both of us ending up at the same college… _Pure _coincidence."

"Coincidence?" Dean blinked.

Shrugging, Harry nodded. "That's all it _can _be described as… unless you believe in fate?"

Dean snorted. "Coincidence it is."

"Wait," Sam spoke up, breaking the comfortable silence they had fallen into it. "Harry, you said you had a theory about Brady?"

"Oh," Harry said, as if it had slipped his mind. "Right. Well, for a moment, I thought he was a wizard…"

"Why do you say that?" Dean asked, considering the idea.

"Well…" Harry threw a glance in Sam's direction before staring at his lap. "I… found him… when he was in the middle of hurting..." Harry bit his lip as Sam stiffened next to him and Dean stared, his gaze showing a hint of sympathy. "Somehow, he was able to pin her to the ceiling and was… _cutting _her, right across her abdomen."

Dean drew in a startled breath, his eyes going wide. "The demon," he whispered, staring at both Sam and Harry. "That's how Mom died!"

Harry frowned, storing that tidbit of information about their mother away. He flashed a look at Sam, but the man remained silent, his hands clenched into tight fists. "So you think Brady is the same demon that killed your mother?" Harry asked, guessing the first thing that came to mind.

"…I don't know," Dean sighed, running a hand through his cropped hair. "Fuck, I wish Dad were here…"

The two brothers descended into silence and Harry looked between them, the sudden tense atmosphere leaving him at a lost. A sudden yawn struck him and he blinked, finding himself under the scrutiny of both Winchester brothers.

"You tired?" Sam asked, a knowing look to his gaze. Knowing better than to deny it, Harry nodded, this time lifting a hand to cover his next yawn.

The day had been eventful and far more stressful than he was used to in the two years of relative peace he had experienced. The sudden excitement and drama left him _exhausted_. He felt he could sleep for a week and it would still not be enough.

"Alright," Dean said, "let's hit the sack and then we'll decide what to do in the morning."

As they began to get ready for bed things became awkward. There was only two beds, not that it was that big of a deal considering Harry had slept with Sam in the platonic sense several times before, but Dean was also in the room which had Harry feeling jittery despite how stupid he told himself he was being. Harry had felt Dean's eyes glancing over at him as he'd been getting undressed, and was surprised that he didn't mind it so much. In fact, Harry felt rather emboldened by the fact that Dean was so obviously attracted to him.

"Hey," Sam said as he walked over and turned the covers back for the both of them, which answered Harry's question of where he was expected to sleep. "I just wanted to say—about what I said and did today… after—"

Harry held up a hand, cutting Sam off before he could finish. "I understand Sam. But you were right. I… I should have tried harder to protect her."

Sam shook his head vehemently, a severe frown on his face. "_No! _Harry, you _did _try… but it's not your fault; I shouldn't have done _any _of those things; I… I hurt you. I'm sorry… no listen, Harry," he commanded, as Harry shook his head. Sam grabbed Harry's hands, causing Harry to look at him, so that he could see the sincerity in Sam's eyes. "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to hurt you. I was a shitty friend and it won't happen again."

"Okay," Harry answered softly. "I forgive you Sam." Sam released a sigh and Harry smiled softly at him. He had to admit that he did feel better now that Sam had apologized.

"You two girls aren't going to hug or anything are you, because if I need to get another room tell me now," Dean suddenly piped in, causing Harry to snort in amusement and Sam to throw a pillow at his older brother's head, which Dean caught and tossed onto his own bed.

"So what are you going to do now?" Sam asked after a few moments of silence.

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment. Then he looked back at Sam. "I guess you're not going back to school?" he asked, and Sam shook his head. "Right, well I don't know then. I don't think I'll go back either, no fun without you and…" Harry couldn't bring himself to say the name of his other close friend, and knew that Sam wasn't ready to hear it either.

"Well, you can't give up your education just because I'm not there," Sam replied with a frown. He didn't want to be the reason for Harry to lose his education.

"Really, Sam, I don't need it," Harry assured.

"Why not?" Dean asked from where he was turning back his own covers. Harry looked at him and smirked, which turned brighter when he saw Dean's cheeks flush a bit.

"You heard what I said earlier right? I'm the bloody _savior_; I could do almost anything I want in the Wizarding World, and actually I'm pretty well off. I don't need any more money," Harry answered looking down at the shirt he was folding and putting away. He'd always been a little uncomfortable when talk turned to his wealth. "I went to school for a vacation really—to get the normal Muggle experience and all that. I think I'm ready for something new though."

"You don't seem so happy to be 'well off' as you say," Dean stated having caught Harry's reluctance to talk about it. Harry hadn't come across as someone who would be extremely wealthy and Sam had never mentioned him being rich either.

"I inherited most of the money from my parents and Sirius. They came from very old and wealthy pureblood lines and since the end of the war different families and people have left me things in their wills—wanting to pay back the savior," Harry answered bitterly. "I'd rather earn something by my own merits, for my own talents than reputation, and without all the fans. My talent is mostly in my fighting—Defense Against the Dark Arts. That's what I'm really good at."

"Why don't you come with us?" Sam asked without hesitation, as if that was what he'd been thinking the entire time anyway.

Dean looked at his brother in surprise, ready to protest, but when he saw the hope there he stopped himself. Sammy really didn't need to lose someone else so soon, and if Harry being there helped Sam then Dean wasn't going to stop it no matter how hard it would make things for him personally. He looked to Sam's friend to see what he was thinking, and could see Harry glancing at him uncertainly.

"Yeah, we could use your help and you could use our expertise," Dean encouraged causing Sam's head to snap towards him in surprise. He'd been expecting Dean to protest.

Harry thought about it, happy Sam wanted him along, and hopeful that Dean did as well. "I don't know," he hedged. "I mean… you guys are the things we were warned away from back at my old school.

Dean snorted but his retort was stopped by a glare from Sam. "Harry, we promise you," the taller hunter said. "We made a mistake by attacking you so hastily, but we're usually not like this. We make sure the thing we're hunting has hurt people before attacking."

"Really?" Harry asked, his thoughts focusing on Remus and little Teddy. Remus couldn't control himself while in his wolf form and had almost hurt Snape because of a prank. While it wasn't his fault, that would be enough in a hunter's eyes to have him eliminated. He wasn't sure he could do that. "On one condition," he said, staring at them both with serious eyes.

Sam nodded, and having no choice, Dean did as well, his reluctance obvious.

"Alright, I'll stick around if you don't mind having a third party tagging along, _but _if I think we can settle things without having to kill—we do so, agreed?" Dean opened his mouth to protest but Sam beat him to it.

"Agreed," Sam said, sending his brother a short stare. Grimacing, Dean nodded, despite the fact that his brain was screaming at him that this was a bad idea. It was the other parts of his body that were winning out though as Harry smiled at him and then crawled into bed beside Sam.

**o0o**

"…_Jess_."

The quiet whisper had Harry's eyes snapping open and blinking as he was returned to the waking world. He was still a bit disoriented from sleep, so at first he just stared into the darkness, wondering what had awoken him. All around him the sounds remained the same, the gentle breathing of the brother's and the distant noise of the city outside. Just as he began snuggling into Sam's chest to go back to sleep he heard it again, this time with clarity.

"Jess, _no_!" Sam whimpered, his breath hitching, yet still he remained in his dream, face twisting in pain and horror. Harry stared at his friend for several moments, waiting to see if he would settle down on his own but again Sam winced, shifting.

"Sam?" Harry tried, sitting up so he could run his fingers through the man's hair and maybe give him sort of reprieve from the nightmare he was having. Sam seemed to relax under his touch, his eyebrows smoothing and a soft sigh escaping his lips. When Harry was sure that whatever dream his friend had been having was avoided he closed his eyes, fingers still curling through Sam's hair and a dull ache throbbing in his chest.

Although Sam had told him otherwise, Jess's death… he _could _have stopped it; he shouldn't have let her out of his sight—not even for a second. Sam had given him a task, a task to keep his girlfriend safe and Harry _failed_, resulting in her death.

Harry was becoming sick of death, but it seemed to follow him no matter where he went; it had become something he just couldn't _run _from, no matter how hard he tried. Death was always at his heels, but since it couldn't take Harry himself, it grasped onto those closest to him, making him hate the life which kept slipping from between death's skeletal fingers.

But he wouldn't let it take Sam _nor _Dean, not if he had a say in the matter—and he _would_. He would make sure of it. He would make sure than when the next person close to him died, it would be of old age and peacefully in their sleep and not with tears streaming down their cheeks as… Harry bit the inside of his cheek, cutting the thought off before it could form.

Eyes still seeming to glow with his conviction, he curled up once more against Sam, holding on perhaps tighter than necessary, just to remind himself that Sam was still there and _breathing. _

**o0o**

The next morning Dean and Sam awoke to the smell of coffee, each of them sitting up in bed and wondering where the pleasant aroma was coming from. Harry smiled as he watched them wake, answering the question of _who _and soon the _where _as he lifted a pot of freshly brewed coffee and poured himself a cup.

"Good morning," he Harry said, dressed for the day and seated at the small table in their hotel room. "Shall we talk about what you want to do?"

Dean blinked at him and searched for a clock to no avail. "What time is it?"

"Seven o'clock," Harry answered, flushing a little at the sound of Dean's husky voice and the sight of his messy hair. It looked as if the man had just been thoroughly shagged and combined with the sight of his shirtless upper half peaking out of the covers, that assessment didn't seem so far off.

Sam fell back onto his pillows with a groan, covering his eyes with his hand. "Forgot you were a morning person. What time did you wake up?" he asked.

"Five," Harry answered taking a sip of his coffee as Dean looked at him in shock.

"You always up that early?" he asked.

Harry nodded. "It's what happens when you play my kind of roll in a war. You get too paranoid to sleep much," he paused not knowing yet how much he wanted to reveal of himself, although if they'd heard of Harry Potter then they might have known some of it already. "Although, I suppose it's not paranoia if they really are out to get you." Harry's following laugh was void of mirth.

"That's gotta suck," Dean muttered.

Harry shrugged. "So, what are we going to do?"

Sam sat up in bed and threw his leg over the side, rubbing his eyes to rid himself of sleep. "I want to search around campus, see if Brady is still around. If he was a demon, there should be some sort of sign or _something_."

"A demon," Harry repeated, feeling his heart beating a little faster. Sam looked at him in concern.

"What's the matter?" Sam asked sensing his friend's distress.

Harry's head snapped up. "Nothing—" he began to deny, but the look he got from Sam had him changing gears. "It's just that demons are… are powerful. If there are two things in the world that wizards fear its demons and well… hunters."

"Us?" Dean asked in surprise.

"Yeah," Harry answered shifting to avoid Dean's eyes. "Like that spell or whatever it was you used on me… I've never felt anything like it. I… I've been hit with a lot, all kinds of torturing spells, you name it and I've experienced it… but what you did." Harry shivered, even just remembering it causing jolts to race through his body. "We don't have a spell like that. The most sacred thing to a wizard is their magic. Take it away and we're as good as dead, but you didn't just take it from me—you turned it against me and… _uhg_. It was like feeling the worst kind of betrayal. I—I would rather not feel that again…" Harry trailed off, eyes shifting to stare at the floor.

There was a heavy silence after that and then Harry felt a hand cautiously touch his shoulder. He looked up into the smoky green eyes of Dean and lost the ability to speak.

"For what it's worth, I really am sorry," Dean said softly, and Harry knew that he really meant it because Dean didn't seem the type to apologize for anything, much less to a wizard. "That spell was never meant to be used on a wizard whose magic actually belonged to him. I—I didn't realize what your magic meant to you and what it would feel like to have it turn on you. You have my word that I won't use it on you again."

Harry nodded his head and licked his lips, watching as Dean's eyes darted down and followed the movement. He really wanted Dean to kiss him at that moment. This was the closest they'd ever really been if you didn't count the fight, but even then their faces hadn't come so close. Dean blinked a couple times though, as if coming back to himself, and pulled away.

"Yeah, so uh… what were you saying about demons?" Dean asked after clearing his throat and stumbling back over to where he had been sitting before.

"So yeah… demons," Harry continued, avoiding Sam's knowing gaze. "I've never actually faced one before. The Dark Lord was too fearful to employ them in his war. They aren't exactly trustworthy and you'd need a really powerful necromancer to even attempt to control one, and that's only the _lowest _level demons. The higher ranking ones can't be controlled as far as I know and, well… I've heard stories… of them capturing wizards and turning them into slaves. They view us as the purebloods view Muggles. They normally aren't able to possess us though, but if one was powerful enough to control us they would be able to use our powers as well."

"Are you able to kill one?" Dean asked, remembering that Harry had said he was above average for a wizard. "All we've been able to do is send them back to wherever it is they come from."

Harry shrugged. "I can't say—I've never _tried_. My magic did _something _to Brady when he was…" He shook his head. "Anyway, all it did was fling him into a wall, but I don't even know if he _was _a demon."

"That bastard," Sam hissed, his eyes burning. Harry felt a chill race down his spine, the deep well of darkness he saw in Sam's gaze frightening him. "When I get my hands on him, I—"

"Are we going back?" Harry questioned, cutting Sam off and staring at his lap. He could still feel their inquiring gazes on him. "To the apartment," he clarified, a pang appearing in his chest at the thought of going back there.

Sam stared at Dean, appearing at a lost before he released a slow sigh. "No… No. It's probably not a good idea," Sam admitted. "The police are still investigating, and if they see us snooping around…"

Although Harry was relieved, he didn't let it show and nodded. Dean was about to say something when at that moment Sam's phone went off. The shrill ring pierced through the air, startling them and making them all look to each other in confusion.

"It's my phone," Sam said, pulling the instrument from his pants when it stopped ringing and stared at the screen. "…I got a text."

"From who?" Harry asked, wondering if maybe Sam's friends had heard about Jess's death and were sending their condolences. The thought of all who would be touched by the news pained him and he shook his head, pushing the crippling emotions aside.

Sam was still staring down at his screen in disbelief. "From Dad."

"Well? What'd he say?" Dean asked anxiously getting to his feet and walking over to peer at the message over Sam's shoulder.

"They're coordinates," Sam answered sharing a look with his brother before looking over at Harry. Harry looked over his shoulder at the phone with a frown.

"Coordinates to _what_?" Harry huffed, rolling his eyes.

Dean began gathering their things, moving around the room in a flash. "To where we're going next." He paused and threw a look over his shoulder. "And maybe even Dad himself."


	5. Wendigo pt1

**A/N: **Hmm... I don't really have a lot to say this update. I'm trying to focus more on my writing, buuut...

Ah well. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter! We're still in the early parts of the story, but it won't be long before I start going into uncharted territory... Hehe.

* * *

**Wendigo - Part One**

**Palo Alto, California**

_**On the Road**_

The sleek '67 Impala made nary a sound as it sailed along the road, Dean behind the steering wheel and stealing glances at the green-eyed beauty in the backseat through the rearview mirror. To the right in the passenger seat slept Sam and behind him sat Harry, gaze listless as he stared at the blurring scenery. Dean bit his lip and stared ahead with purpose, trying to focus on the road.

'_It's not allowed…' _Dean tried to reason to himself._ 'I promised Sammy I wouldn't… Sammy would kill me if I did…'_ He repeated the single thought over and over again, cursing the world for bestowing Sam with suck a fucking hot friend. It was unfair, really. But, just because Dean couldn't _touch, _that didn't mean he couldn't _look._ Satisfied at his logic, Dean continued to do that, knowing that he should perhaps focus more attention on the road.

In the backseat, Harry released a small sigh, his soft pink lips parting and drawing Dean's attention like a magnet. There was a stirring in his loins and Dean bit back a groan. "Is this some sort of punishment?" Dean grumbled under his breath, wincing once he realized that he had spoken aloud. Thankfully, the music streaming from the car speakers silenced his muttering—or so he hoped.

It had to be some sort of cosmic retribution against him, Dean decided. How come Sammy's friend couldn't have been an ugly computer geek? How come his skin had to be so damn flawless? How come his eyes had to be so damn alluring, and his hair so damn sexy, and the way he walked so damn _tempting_. How come those damn lips had to be so damn kissable, and that fucking neck just _begged _to be nibbled. How come Sammy's friend had to be so damn fuckable!

Dean tore his eyes away from the tormenting temptation with an angry growl, all too aware of the growing bulge in his jeans. He wanted to bang his head against the steering wheel for having made that promise to Sam. It had seemed like such a simple thing to promise at the time, after all, he had never thought that he would see the beauty again, yet there he was sitting in the back seat of Dean's car looking so damn sexy as he leaned his head back against the black leather seats and closed his eyes with another sigh.

Dean wanted to pull over right there, rip his clothes off, and make Harry's hot, sweaty body writhe against the leather while Sam slept on in the front seat. Just as Dean thought that, and was about to give in and glance at Harry once again, Sam jerked awake. Dean shifted in his seat, hoping his brother hadn't developed ESP or something.

"You okay?" Harry asked having jerked to attention as well.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sam said, drawing in a deep breath and rubbing at his eyes.

Harry wouldn't let it go that easily though, because he knew from personal experience that 'I'm fine' really meant that you were a single push from slitting your own wrist. "Another nightmare?" he asked with understanding.

Sam cleared his throat and nodded, but he didn't elaborate as he shifted and looked out the window. Harry sighed, knowing what the dream was about without being told, and Dean appeared to understand as well.

Wanting to get his brothers thoughts out of whatever dark place they were heading Dean blurted the first thing that came to mind to distract him. "You wanna drive for a while?" he asked Sam.

Sam laughed and looked over at Dean. "In your whole life, you never once asked me that," he said.

In the rearview mirror Dean could see Harry lift an eyebrow, and nearly drove the car off the road as his cock gave a twitch—god, that was fucking hot! "I just thought you might want to, never mind," Dean muttered, shifting in his seat and clearing his throat.

Sam sighed. "Look guys, you're worried about me, I get it and thank you but I'm perfectly okay."

Harry frowned, but didn't want to cause a scene, not with Dean around. He knew exactly what Sam was going through because he was going through it as well. Sam may have loved Jess in a romantic sense, but Harry had loved her as a friend.

Jess's funeral had been a somber affair, and Harry and Sam both had sat through it with faces carved of stone, ignoring the quiet tears that flowed from Jess's friends and family. To Harry, it was just another funeral for a fallen friend, he had sat through more than he cared to admit, and with each one he lost, he became a little more desensitized to the ritual that was having a funeral.

He knew it was to honor the dead and pay respects, but… it wouldn't bring them back. It wouldn't right the wrong that was committed, and as the body was placed into a pit which would soon be covered with dirt, Harry couldn't help but lament at how _unfair _it was. Jess didn't deserve this.

It was a time of _peace _and _happiness_—he had left war and death behind in Britain. It wasn't supposed to follow him, it wasn't supposed to touch the new friends he made. A crack appeared in Harry's mask, but he still didn't allow his true emotions to show. Across from him, Jess's mother wept into her husband's shoulder, and next to him, a lone tear slid down Sam's cheek. It was that single drop which broke Harry.

Before he knew it, he was on his knees and tears were pouring from his eyes. Strong arms wrapped around him and whispered useless words into his ears, but he didn't hear them. The only thing flashing through Harry's mind that this was all his _fault_. Jess's death was his fault and his alone and all of these innocent people shouldn't have to _suffer_. Harry was tired of it, so fucking _tired, _but…

They were still out there. Brady still walked the earth and Harry swore he would never rest until he saw the man dead and hanging by his entrails. He didn't know _how _long it would take or _what _he would do after his single goal was accomplished, yet… it gave Harry the strength to pull himself to his feet and give a wan smile in Sam's direction.

He was still hurting, but he was a survivor and he would deal with the pain with his own way. Sam too was a survivor, and he turned his grief into a dark anger that would fester rather than fuel him. It was a scary sight, the darkness lurking just beneath Sam's eyes, but Harry didn't know what to do about it.

Talking wouldn't help; in fact, talking just made the memories more _real _and caused all that hurt and pain to bubble to the surface, but maybe it would help him cope? Sam was dealing in a way that only Sam could, but in the long run, it might _hurt _himrather than help.

"Alright, where are we?" Sam asked, desperate to move on to a new topic that didn't have to do with his well being.

"Just outside of Grand Junction," Dean answered.

"Hey, do you think maybe we left Stanford too soon?" Sam asked looking down at the map and biting his bottom lip.

Dean shook his head, shooting a quick glance at his brother. "Sam, we did what we could, but there's nothing left there. The police already had Harry pegged as their number one suspect, so if we had stayed for even a day longer…"

"You're right," Sam whispered, turning to look at Harry in the backseat. Harry gave him a small smile which Sam returned with one of his own. "But what do we do about Brady…?"

"We find Dad," Dean said with conviction, his eyes on the road.

Harry knew the feeling of not wanting to let go but knowing that you needed too. It hadn't been easy for him to leave England, to leave the only friends he'd had left, and the only place he'd ever called home, but Harry had also known that if he didn't leave he would never have moved on. His entire life had been about the war, about defeating Voldemort. From the day he was born it had been a constant fight to live, to survive, and if Harry hadn't left when he had he would have still been there, stuck on that battlefield, fighting himself for another day.

"Dad will have answers; he'll know what to do," Dean continued, his voice ringing with certainty. Harry could tell Dean had a lot of respect for his dad—to the point where it blinded him. Harry once had a similar respect for Dumbledore, but he had lost all hope in the man during their fifth year. Didn't have the ability to solve every problem, nor could he save everyone. He was just a normal human, and that blow had rocked Harry to his core.

Sam sighed, his eyes dark but resigned. He wanted revenge on Brady for taking what was dearest to him as soon as possible, but with no leads to follow up on, all they could do was continuing looking for their father and hope the man would know what was going on. Grasping the map that sat on the dashboard, he located their current position and where there father wanted them to be.

"Its weird man," Sam began, a frown of confusion on his face, "these coordinates he left us, this Blackwater Ridge…"

"What about it?" Dean asked, glancing over.

"There's nothing there," Sam said, shaking his head. "It's just woods. Why is he sending us to the middle of nowhere?" The man's question was met with silence and Harry stared at the two of them, his eyebrows drawn down in consideration.

"Maybe he's meeting you there?" Harry ventured, meeting Dean's gaze in the review mirror. He was unable to hold in a gasp as tension sizzled between them, electricity racing down his spine and coiling through his heard. Sam cleared his throat and Dean's eyes snapped back to the road, swerving as he tried to straighten the car out once again.

"Maybe," Dean agreed at length, shifting in his seat as Sam looked at him with narrowed eyes.

Harry relaxed into the back seat and looked at Sam. He wasn't the best at reading people, but it didn't take a genius to figure out that Sam didn't approve of the attraction he and Dean seemed to share. Harry wasn't quite deluded enough to think Sam jealous, but he couldn't know for sure as the man hadn't approached him about it. From the way Dean seemed to almost be quailing from Harry when Sam so much as _twitched_, he was wondering if perhaps Dean had been warned away from him. But surely Sam wouldn't have done that... Harry was an adult and perfectly capable of making his own choices and his own mistakes—if this, whatever it was, turned out to be a mistake. Harry didn't want to get his hopes up too high after all.

Harry held no illusions that Dean Winchester was a saint or that the hunter wanted to settle down and start a family any time soon—if ever. Harry was alright with that. He wasn't exactly the settle down, live a normal life type either although he truly wanted it. But the truth of the matter was: everyone needed someone. Everyone needed that one person they could count on and trust to have their back through thick and thin, whether they were right or wrong; that one person that would be only theirs, and Harry craved something like that more than anything.

Dean had Sam, and even Harry had Sam, but what happened when Sam found someone of his own—as far off into the future as that was after what had happened to Jessica. Dean would need someone to fill that void though, as would Harry, and perhaps, maybe… when Harry allowed himself to fantasize in the deepest parts of himself… he thought that they could be that for each other. It was stupid he knew, and would probably lead to nothing but heartache for himself, but he just—he couldn't help it.

They were alike in so many ways and that was what attracted Harry to Dean the most. Harry knew that if he couldn't find a way to make it work with Dean then he would never find someone else who would fit him as well as Dean could—besides Sam, but the man had no interest in him. Dean was easy to catch; the man saw a pretty piece of ass and tripped over himself trying to get to it. It was keeping the hunter that posed the biggest problem, but Harry knew that if Dean would just give him a chance then he could show the hunter that there could be more for him than one night stands in crappy motel rooms—there could be more between them.

**o0o**

**Lost Creek, Colorado**

_**Blackwater Ridge**_

The car ride continued in an amiable silence broken only by the rock music blasting from the speakers. Harry wasn't a fan but he wasn't opposed either. Music was something he had never really explored, but he did have a hidden love for songs he could dance to.

At long last they drove pass a sign that read 'Welcome to Lost Creek, Colorado' and Harry perked up at, peering around at the new place they found themselves in. To be honest, it wasn't much different than the many trees they had passed driving in and Harry slumped back down in his seat, disappointed.

"So," he began, breaking the tranquil lull that had descended over them, "where are we going now?"

Sam frowned and stared down at his map. "The Visitor's Center—find out a little more about the place before we jump in." Harry nodded, making of note of it. If he was going to be a hunter, he would have to learn the trade, learn how to fit in and how to hunt. Since he just so happened to have two experienced hunters in his midst, he was going to watch them like a hawk and gleam any insight from them that he could.

After several more minutes of navigating, they pulled into a wooden building located in a small grove of trees. The few people who loitered about eyed the vehicle with appreciation as Dean parked near the flagpole. Cutting off the engine, Dean climbed out of the vehicle with Sam and Harry following.

Having never been the graceful type when not in a battle situation, Harry stumbled over a rock and felt hand's reach out to steady him. He looked up into the smoky green eyes of Dean and felt his heart skip a beat.

Dean jerked back as if he'd been burned and cleared his throat. "Uh, watch your step," he advised and then turned and continued walking. Harry shook himself and followed behind at a more subdued pace. Sam was saying something, but Harry tuned him out, instead looking around the shack they had wandered inside.

It was dimly lit by only a few lamps in the corner, the one window not providing adequate sunlight. A desk took up a large portion of the room and various things were strewn about ranging from books to small statues and other knickknacks. Whoever it was that occupied the space was obviously a collector of sorts and they all split up as they looked around.

"Dude, check out the size of this freakin bear!" Dean exclaimed interrupting Sam as he spotted an enormous stuffed bear making an impressive sight on its hind legs with its mouth wide open. "Hey Black, come see if your head will fit in its mouth."

"—and a dozen or more grizzlies in the area. It's no nature hike that's for sure," Sam finished, rolling his eyes when he realized that no one had been paying attention to him.

Harry snorted and continued walking further into the room as he tried to ignore the disappointment he felt that Dean was still calling him by his last name after spending the last week in close quarters. "No thanks," he drawled, "there's only one mouth I want to stick something into." The comment had been careless and teasing, but as soon as he realized what he said he blushed down to his neck, sputtering and trying to backtrack without success. Sam just slapped his own face and Dean burst into shocked laughter, holding his sides, although there was definite red tinge to his cheeks.

Dean was just getting over his chuckles when a ranger came through the door, stopping at the sight of all of them. "You boys aren't planning on going out near Blackwater Ridge by any chance?" he asked.

"Oh, no sir," Sam stepped in, seeing as how Dean was still wiping his eyes and Harry was still scowling at him. "We're environmental study majors from UC Boulder, just working on a paper." Harry blinked at the easy lie which left Sam's lips. If he hadn't been in on it himself, he would have believed it.

"Recycle man," Dean declared, holding up a serious fist. Harry had to cover a startled laugh with a cough.

"Uh, save the trees," Harry added on, earning amused glances from both Sam and Dean who he knew were trying hard not to smile. The sight of their faces was doing nothing for his composure.

"Bull," the ranger said, making Harry gape and shift in guilt. Dean and Sam traded nervous glances. "You're friends with that Hailey girl right?" he asked with an annoyed look on his face as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Dean decided to step in, giving the ranger a smile that had Harry dazzled for a moment. "Yes we are ranger…" he threw a quick glance at the man's nametag, "Wilkinson."

"Well I will tell you exactly what we told her," the ranger said. "Her brother filled out a backcountry permit saying he wouldn't be back from Blackwater till the 24th, so it's not exactly a missing persons now is it?" Dean shook his head in agreement. "You tell that girl to quit worrying, I'm sure her brother's just fine."

"We will," Harry and Dean assured him at the same time. The two paused and looked at each other. Sam coughed and Dean shook his head and once more turned forward.

"Actually," Dean said, an almost sly note to his voice, "you know what would help is if I could show her a copy of that backcountry permit. You know… so she could see her brothers return date." Again, Harry was impressed. Their ability to make up believable excuses on the spot was nothing short of awe-inspiring, and Harry hoped that he could one day be able to contribute more than just standing around awkwardly.

Until then, all he could do was watch and learn.

**o0o**

The three men walked out of the building, Dean smiling widely. "That was too easy," he said quietly so no one possibly lingering around would hear.

Harry chuckled at his contagious enthusiasm for another hunt, but it was quickly erased by Sam's next statement. "What are you cruising for a hook-up or something?" he asked, irritated. The smile fell from Harry's face as he felt his stomach drop.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked genuinely confused, and it made Harry feel slightly better.

"The coordinates Dad gave us point to Blackwater Ridge so what are we waiting for, let's just go find Dad. I mean why even talk to this girl?" Sam asked stopping to look at his brother. Harry stopped as well, wanting to hear the answer.

Dean darted a glance in Harry's direction before giving a slight huff. "I dunno, maybe we should know what we're walking into before we walk into it?"

Harry blew out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, put at ease by Dean's explanation.

"I agree," Harry said, piping up for the first time since they had began the hunt. They both looked at him in surprise, but Dean's gaze held a hint of gratitude. "I mean, I don't want to be the paranoid prat who rains on everyone's parade but… what if that text wasn't even from your dad?" As soon as the question passed his lips he wished he could take it back. He could tell that the thought had crossed neither of their minds and they stared at the ground, each retreating into their own thoughts.

Sam released a small sigh and ran a small hand through his hair. "I guess you're right…" Harry nodded and looked toward Dean, but the man was still staring at nothing, his eyes distant.

"Dean?" Harry asked, breaking the man from his thoughts. Dean shook his head and gave a small smile, although it didn't reach his eyes.

"I'm fine," Dean assured before turning and leading them back toward the car. "Now let's go find that Hailey chick." Sam trailed behind his brother, a frown on his face. Harry stared for a second longer than was necessary before shaking himself out of it and following after Sam. He really needed to get that under control, but Dean's face was so interesting, so expressive, and it completely captivated him in the most embarrassing way.

They reached the car and got in before driving to the girl's house. The ride there was quiet and a little uncomfortable, but Harry had grown used to it, reminding himself that Sam and Dean weren't yet used to having a third wheel along with them. When they pulled into the driveway Dean pulled over to the side and turned to Harry.

"Can you make us fake IDs?" Dean asked, and Harry felt his heartbeat quicken. This was it. This was his chance to help with something. His chance to show Dean that he was worth keeping around. That his magic was something they could utilize rather than fear.

"As what?" Harry questioned hoping that he would be able to do it right, but it depended on the ID Dean wanted. It had to be one Harry had seen before in order for him to duplicate it.

"We're going in as park rangers," Dean said, and Harry felt relief flood him as he remembered the tag the park ranger they'd just met had been wearing.

"Yeah, I can make those," Harry answered with confidence as he focused on every detail he could remember. His eyes slip closed and he imagined every miniscule detail in his head: the look of the glossy cover, the font of the small print, and the faces that would go along with it. Magic leapt from his core to do his bidding, surging through his body and into his hands, glowing with a faint light before dissipating. In his hand laid the IDs and the brothers gaped before Dean snatched them up.

"Perfect," Dean said, his voice a little awed as he studied them. Harry flushed in pleasure, pleased that his little magical display had been appreciated, but as they went to get out of the car Dean pushed Harry back into his seat.

"You stay here," he said while taking Harry's own ID from his fingers. "I noticed back there that you aren't very good at lying. You get this guilty look on your face and you get fidgety. We can't have you messing this up."

The pleasure Harry had felt just moments ago vanished. "What the hell?" he muttered, annoyance rearing its head. He didn't want to sit out in the Impala while the brothers went to investigate. If there was one thing Harry hated most in the world it was feeling left out of a fight when he knew he could be doing something to help. "Yeah, I'm not used to outright lying to people's face, but that doesn't mean I can't _learn—_besides, I'll have to eventually, won't I?"

"I say let him come," Sam said with a frown turned in his brother's direction. Faced with the ire of perhaps the only two people who could get under his skin, Dean found his resolve to not give in wavering.

"Or he could just stay here and make himself as scarce as possible," Dean replied, looking away when a flash of hurt entered those green eyes. It wasn't that he didn't like Harry—in fact, it was just the opposite. Dean liked Harry a little too much; therefore to keep his promise to Sam, his plan was to stay away from the younger man as much as possible.

"Please, I just—I want to help," Harry pleaded, feeling disgusted with himself for doing so, but he really did want this chance to prove to Dean that he could be useful, and he really didn't want to be left out here like some kind of useless addition—some kid that'd just decided to tag along uninvited.

Dean sighed in annoyance but gave in. "Fine, but don't get in the way," he snapped as he threw the ranger ID back at Harry before opening his own car door. Harry caught the ID with his seeker reflexes, a grin on his face. He would show Dean he wasn't useless—he would lie his butt of to this Hailey girl and make her buy every word of it.

Harry and Sam swung open their doors as Dean came around the car and they all walked up to the front door of the house. After giving Harry another pointed glance that said _'Don't screw this up.' _Dean knocked on the door and waited. After several moments, a young woman, perhaps Sam's age, opened it and stared at them through the screen door.

"You must be Hailey Collins," Dean smiled as soon as the door opened. He didn't receive one back. "I'm Dean, this is Sam and over here is—"

"Harry," the shorter of the trio took over, an easy smile own on his face. "I'm in charge of the Forest Patrol and these two here are my assistants." Sam and Dean raised incredulous eyebrows down at him, but when Hailey turned toward them in question they smiled, although Dean's looked a tad forced. "We work with the rangers in the park service. Ranger Wilkison called up reporting a missing person. I believe he was your brother, uh…"

"Tommy," the girl supplied, her eyes still holding a wary suspicion.

Harry inclined his head, berating himself for forgetting her brother's name. "Tommy, of course," he said, barreling forward. "Well, we just wanted to ask you some questions, if you don't mind." Once he was done with his speech, Harry allowed himself a moment to bask in his bullshitting abilities—it was easier than he had thought, and by the looks he was getting, he hadn't done a half-bad job of it.

"Let me see some ID," Hailey demanded, as they knew she would. Dean held up the ID Harry had made for them, and Harry held his breath as the girl looked at them. "Come on in," she said after a long moment and Harry sighed in relief.

Dean smiled. "Thanks."

As she turned to lead them inside, Dean grabbed Harry's arm, forcing them to remain behind while Sam walked with Hailey.

"What the hell was that?" Dean demanded, his gaze harsh and his grip on Harry firm, but not painful. Harry shrugged out of the hold without problem, an almost challenging grin on his face.

"You know what it was," Harry said, his lips quirking up higher at the man's consternation. "I'm just showing you that I _can _be of use and you don't have to sit me in time out."

Dean sighed and ran a hand through his hair, having to concede that Harry had made his point. "Alright," he allowed, rolling his eyes at Harry's exuberant expression although his heart gave a slight jolt at the sight, "that wasn't half-bad. But… your _assistants_?"

Harry's smile turned sheepish and he gave a small shrug. "I'll keep that in mind for next time." Dean glared a little at 'next time' but didn't dispute him. Together they followed where they could hear Sam's voice emanating from and found the two sitting in a quaint kitchen. Hailey still had her usual almost bored look on her face, but she seemed to sit a little straighter in her seat as the two walked in.

"So nice of you to join us," she said, her gaze seeming to pierce straight through them. Harry could feel himself wanting to do as Dean had called his 'nervous shuffling' and had to remind himself to keep his expression aloof. Dean, however, brushed her comment aside with a charming smile.

"Sorry about that, the old boss here needed a little help tying his shoes. Early onset of Alzheimer's," Dean tacked on in a stage whisper, shaking his head. Hailey's look shifted to that of sympathy and she stared at Harry, a pitying frown on her face.

"I'm so sorry."

Harry endured with a pained smile, knowing this was Dean's way of getting back at him for his earlier actions. Sam was hiding his laughter behind his hand but sobered with a glare from Harry.

Dean tossed an arm around his shoulder and pulled him in for a side hug, almost making up for his previous lie—_almost_. Harry felt himself flushing as he felt the warmth radiating from Dean's body and the solid weight of the arm tugging him close. "Yeah, we try to help him in any way we can."

Coughing, Sam tried to bring the subject back to the matter at hand. "About your brother, he's not due back for a while, right?" Hailey nodded. "How do you know something's wrong?"

"He checks in every day by cell," Hailey answered. "He e-mails photos, stupid little videos… but we haven't heard anything in over three days now."

"Well maybe he can't get cell reception," Sam suggested.

"He's got a satellite phone too," Hailey shot down.

"Could it be he's just having fun and forgot to check in?" Dean asked, Harry still pressed into his side with his arm around the other man's waist. If he leaned down, he could breathe in Harry's scent and—Dean winced. He had promised Sam, those damning words repeating in his head like a mantra. He would _not_ molest Harry.

A young boy who had gone unnoticed brushed past Harry and turned to Dean with a defiant scowl. "He wouldn't do that."

Hailey explained, "Our parents are gone; it's just my two brothers and me. We all keep pretty close tabs on each other."

"Can I see the pictures he sent you?" Sam asked.

Hailey nodded. "Wait a second."

She disappeared for a moment and Harry's gaze swiveled over to the boy who now sat at the table, a bowl of spaghetti in front of him. They had caught the two getting ready for dinner, but now the boy ignored his food, a sneer on his face as his eyes switched from the possessive hold Dean had on him then to his flushed face.

Harry raised a curious brow at the boy but with a final glare he went back to his food, ignoring them. Hailey returned a moment later, pushing the incident from Harry's mind. She sat a small laptop on the table and bent over it as she went to access the files.

Dean's gaze, of course, went down to her ass and Harry glared, a little put off by Dean's obvious ogling. He elbowed them man in his sides for his wandering eyes and received an almost betrayed look in return. Huffing, Harry removed himself from Dean's side and went to stand behind Sam so he could look at the files as well.

"That's Tommy," Hailey said, what looked to be a video appearing on the screen. A man was huddling in a dim tent and he began to speak when she clicked play.

"Hey Hailey, day six, we're still out near Blackwater Ridge, we're fine, keeping safe, so don't worry, talk to you tomorrow."

There was a flash of something in the background of the video and Harry blinked, the only reason he had seen it being his many years chasing after the small golden snitch. Sam seemed to have noticed it as well, a frown tugging at his lips.

"Well, we'll find your brother, we're headin out to Blackwater ridge first thing in the morning," Dean said with confidence. Harry felt himself once again admiring the confident man standing beside him, and shook himself out of it, Hailey's brother once more watching him with a sneer.

"Then maybe I'll see you there," Hailey replied. The three men all turned to stare at her in shocked confusion."Look. I can't sit around here anymore, so I hired a guide. I'm heading out in the morning and I'm gonna find Tommy myself," she defended.

"I think I know how you feel," Dean said, thinking about how he was looking for his dad. Harry gave his arm a light squeeze in comfort even as he _saw _the bond between Dean and Hailey forming before his very eyes.

"Hey, you mind forwarding these to me?" Sam asked still standing over the computer.

"Sure," Hailey answered, and Sam quickly gave her his email address before she began escorting them toward the door. She paused when she noticed the Impala and turned a curious look in Harry's direction. "That yours?"

Before Harry could respond, Dean stepped in front of him, a suave smile on his face. "Actually, it's mine." Hailey's eyes lit up in surprise and she gave Dean a not so subtle once over, a small smile curling at her lips.

"Nice."

"Sorry," Harry cut in, his heart giving a pained lurch. The two were making sex eyes at each other, and if he watched for another second he swore he would be sick. "We really have to go—trees and all that rubbish to save; the life of a forest patrolman never ends."

Hailey raised a confused eyebrow but relented. "Right…" Nodding, Harry had to _drag _Dean back to the Impala by his collar, ignoring the man's cries of protest and Sam's amused chuckles. Once they neared the vehicle, Dean tore himself free of Harry's grip and looked at him with a frown.

"Dude, what the hell?" Dean cried, adjusting his leather jacket. "She totally wanted me."

Harry winced, that being _exactly _why he had carried Dean away. His throat bobbed as he tried to swallow the lump growing there and shook his head. Without answering, Harry climbed into the backseat, not wanting either of the brothers to see the devastated look on his face. It was obvious he was failing at gaining Dean's attention, or at least the kind of attention he wanted from Dean. The sexual attraction was all well and good, but Harry had hoped that it was a bit more than that—he didn't want Dean _looking _at other people, let alone _sleeping _with them.

Once again though, just like all the other times, Harry realized he would be nothing more than a simple fuck. The only reason Dean was holding back from fucking him was because of Sam, and Harry guessed that he should be grateful for that now that the realization was sinking in. It would have been much worse had he allowed Dean to have him only to come to this realization now. Dean wanted him, but he didn't _want _him. Harry was beginning to think that no one ever would.

The brothers climbed into the car and Sam flashed him a concerned look. Harry ignored it with purpose, his gaze toward the window opposite of Dean.

"Why don't we go for a drink?" Harry suggested needing something to take his mind off of his lonely and depressing thoughts, and alcohol had always been a good start.

**o0o**

**Lost Creek, Colorado**

_**Local bar**_

Sam pulled out some news articles while they were in the bar and Harry rolled his eyes. Only Sam would have brought his research with him to a place like this. "So, Blackwater Ridge doesn't get a lot of traffic, local campers mostly. But still, this past April two hikers went missing out there, they were never found," he said laying the papers out across the table.

"Any before that?" Dean asked downing the last bit of his beer before signaling for another. Harry was already on his sixth of whatever it was the guy down the bar kept buying him and was feeling a little more than tipsy.

Going through the articles Sam started counting them off. "Yeah in 1982, eight different people all vanished in the same year. Authorities said it was a grizzly attack. And again in 1959 and again before that in 1936. Every 23 years, just like clockwork."

"So what where you frowning at before? In the video Hailey showed us?" Harry slurred and Dean's head snapped up to looked at Harry for the first time since they'd come into the bar. He glanced down at the six empty bottles beside Harry and frowned. Dean had been buying the rounds for all of them, but he was certain he hadn't bought that many, not to mention Harry wasn't drinking what he was buying as those bottle were sitting beside Sam still full.

Sam nodded and pulled out his laptop. "Okay watch this. Here's a clincher. I downloaded that guy, Tommy's, video to the laptop. Check this out." Sam played the video frame by frame showing a shadow run by the tent. Harry looked at Sam surprised. He didn't know there was something that could move that fast.

"Do it again," Dean said, making sure not to blink.

Sam played it again. "That's three frames. That's a fraction of a second. Whatever that thing is, it can move."

Dean cuffed Sam on the head. "Told ya something weird was going on." Harry laughed, which turned into a hiccup.

"Yeah, yeah… you were right—for once," Sam shot back, rubbing his ear.

At that moment a rather attractive waitress walked by and Harry watched with a sinking feeling as Dean's eyes followed her. "Well Sammy, if you're finished…" he trailed off, and Sam merely waved a hand for him to go on, never taking his eyes off of the newspaper articles. Dean shot out of his chair and walked over to chat the waitress up.

"Hey Harry, you—" Sam began, but cut himself off as he looked up to see Harry gone as well. Swinging his head around the room he caught sight of his best friend sitting beside a guy down the bar who'd been staring at them all night.

Sam felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as, first of all, Harry didn't look all that sober, and, second of all, the guy was much larger than Harry was and could easily take advantage of that. Harry didn't seem all that unwilling though as the guy leaned over and whispered something into his ear. Harry laughed at whatever it was and nodded his head before they both stood.

The taller, blond haired man leaned in as Harry stood with him and captured Harry's mouth in a heated kiss, spinning him and pinning him against the bar until Harry pushed against his chest to get him to back off for a moment. Sam was half out of his seat but Harry grabbed the guys hand and began to lead him outside. The man's hands were very grabby as they walked by, and Sam stood up to go after them and stop Harry before he did something he'd regret in the morning, but Dean walked up at that moment and blocked him.

"That chick's freakin boyfriend nearly clocked me one—hey where you going Sammy?" Dean asked as Sam went to move past him.

"Harry," was all Sam replied as he walked by Dean not caring if his brother followed him or not.

Sam made it outside and stopped to look around. He felt Dean stepping up beside him, and didn't question it as he saw the deep frown marring his brother's face as his eyes cut through the darkness. Then they heard it and Sam felt his stomach drop.

"No, stop… Look, I've—I've changed my mind. I can't do this… stop!" There was the sound of a scuffle, and then the sound of flesh hitting flesh and Sam and Dean took off running around the building.

The guy had Harry pinned with his back to the wall and kept him pinned there with his much larger body. Harry struggled to throw the man off, but all the alcohol he had consumed made his limbs heavy and sluggish.

"You're a fucking tease," the man hissed before crushing his mouth to Harry's and beginning to unbuckle his own pants with the hand not pinning Harry's wrist's above his head. Harry's pants were already undone and pulled halfway down his hips as he tried to get his legs free enough to kick the guy.

Sam moved forward, a dark fire burning in his chest that demanded blood be spilled, but before he could get there Dean was already moving. Dean lunged at the man, prying him free of Harry and giving a savage growl when the man's head impacted the ground with a satisfying crunch.

Harry crumbled to his knees, his body trembling despite his best efforts and unable to tear his eyes away as Dean reared his fist back and delivered blow upon blow to the man who had been moments away from raping him. Sam rushed to Harry's side, pulling him to his feet, but still Harry watched on, feeling bile rise in his throat as the man's face split and blood began to fly from every hit Dean landed.

Unable to bear the sight any longer, Harry struggled free of Sam's grip and vomited beside a trashcan. He heaved until there was nothing left, tears streaming from his eyes and his throat burning like acid. And still, he could _hear _it.

Dean growling like a wild animal. The solid sound of flesh impacting flesh as Dean continued his assault. The small splat as blood rained unto the grown. The pitifal whimpering of the man as each blow knocked him an inch closer to death.

Harry heaved, but there was nothing _left_. He was empty, a husk. Nothing but a pitiful man with his pants still half around his ankle and vomit dotting his shirt.

Seeing that Harry was done, Sam helped him to his feet and leaned him against his wall, righting Harry's pants and buckling them. Harry's eyes were dim, but he was alive and _breathing _and unhurt and at the moment that was good enough for Sam.

Turning, he rushed over to Dean, grabbing his brother's fist when he had pulled back for yet _another _swing.

Dean's fist were coated in red liquid and his face and clothes were dotted with it as well. His lips were pulled back in a snarl and the look he sent Sam's way almost had the tall man reeling.

"Dean! Dean, calm down... It's over..." Sam spoke slowly, as if his brother were a wild animal, but in that moment, Sam felt as if here were.

Dean blinked once, twice, as if realizing for the first time where he was. After several moments, his bloodied fist's uncurled and he looked back at the man he had been mauling, a spark of hate appearing in his eye but the roaring fire appeased for the moment.

"Come on Dean," Sam whispered, pulling his brother to his feet and throwing a look of disgust down at the man who had dared tried to hurt Harry. If Dean hadn't been the first to snap, Sam was sure he had done the same... maybe even worse. But because Dean had been the first to act, that had allowed him to retain some semblance of sanity, and though he shook with silent anger as well, they couldn't _all _break down.

Someone had to be strong.

"Fucker," Dean spat, pulling free of Sam's grip and walking away with only a brief glance in Harry's direction.

Sam sighed, but let Dean go, instead he walked back over to Harry and laid a gentle hand on his friend's shoulder. Harry's head was bowed and he tensed but he didn't pull away.

"You okay?" Sam asked in concern.

Harry nodded, but didn't say anything as the lights from the Impala flooded the side of the building. Sam led Harry over and they both crawled into the backseat, Harry shaking in Sam's arm as the tall man tried futilely to reassure him. The ride back to the motel was made in a heavy silence as they all tried to get their thoughts and emotions under control.

Of all the terrifying things they'd fought and seen though Sam had to admit that seeing that guy pinning Harry to the wall like that had been the scariest by far. What if Sam had decided to ignore his gut instinct and hadn't followed Harry out? He should have been paying more attention to how much Harry had been drinking. He should have watched out for him better.

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered as he helped Harry out of the car and into the motel room.

"What are you apologizing for!" Dean snapped, throwing his leather jacket onto a table and glaring at Sam. "It's his own damn fault for walking off with that guy!"

"Dean you don't know—" Sam began, but Dean was already walking into the bathroom and slamming the door.

Sam knew that it was his fault. He should have known when Harry had asked to go get a drink that something was wrong. Harry only ever drank when something was bothering him, and usually it was because of Harry's unrelenting feeling of loneliness that he only ever went home with someone. Sam had seen Harry the morning after too, and each time the wound was dug a little bit deeper. He should have seen Harry growing depressed; he should have seen this coming, because Sam had a pretty good idea he knew what had triggered it this time.

"Dean hates me," Harry mumbled, and Sam's thoughts were confirmed. He heard the bathroom door opening again, but didn't turn to look at his brother as he took care of Harry.

"He doesn't hate you Harry," Sam sighed as he took off Harry's shoes and socks.

Harry laughed as he crawled up the bed and collapsed against a pillow. "No, he just wants to fuck me… that's all they ever want. It's just like that guy said. I'm a tease… I—I don't mean to be. I don't know why I do it. I try not to be, but I just—I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't know why they never want to stay…" he trailed off as Sam coaxed him to flip over so that he could undo his jeans and pull them off.

Sam sat back, running his fingers through his hair. "Harry, there's nothing wrong with you—" he tried, but Harry cut him off with a snort.

"Like you would know. You were with Jessica. You never saw me like that, but Dean—Dean would know what's wrong with me. He could tell me what I'm doing so that I could stop. He wants me like they do," Harry replied trying to sit up so that he could find Dean and ask him, but Sam put a hand on his chest and kept him in place.

"Harry, Dean's just like that… He's—he's not the kind of guy you're looking for. He's not the relationship type," Sam said, listening for a reaction from his brother, but all he heard was the rustling of paper as Dean shifted through the newspaper clippings from earlier, but never picked one up to read.

"I know," Harry whispered after a long pause. "But I thought he could understand … you know, like you do Sammy. You've always understood, even before you knew what I really was."

Sam sighed and began unbuttoning Harry's shirt. "Harry you'll find someone okay, and they'll be great, and they'll love you so much. You'll share everything with them and they'll be there for you. They'll understand," he tried, but Harry was shaking his head.

"No one like you. No one that would stay. No one ever stays long enough. They don't want to understand, not like you Sammy," Harry replied running his hand over Sam's face. Sam opened his mouth to protest that, but the next second lips were on his and he was frozen.

Sam's first reaction was to jerk away, but he stopped himself before he could and stayed still, not returning the kiss but not wanting to hurt Harry further by rejecting him either. Harry pulled away after a moment and rested his head against Sam's shoulder. Not knowing what to think or do Sam just wrapped his arms around Harry's shoulders and held him.

"I wish… I wish—"

"I know Harry," Sam sighed. It wasn't that he didn't love Harry. Sam just didn't love Harry in the way Harry wanted someone to. "Come on Harry, let's get you to bed," Sam whispered as he lifted Harry up and pulled the comforter from beneath him.

"You love me, don't you Sam?" Harry asked as Sam coaxed him beneath the covers and tucked him in.

"Yeah Harry, I love you," Sam answered as he took off his own shirt and jeans to crawl in beside Harry. He stayed on top of the covers, but moved in close and curled around Harry as he felt Harry's body begin to tremble, and then there was silence in the room except for the occasional hitching of Harry's breath.

**o0o**

The next morning Harry woke up and summoned his bag from across the room without thinking. "Whoa!" he heard Sam's startled voice yell and groaned at the loud noise. Harry didn't dare open his eyes as he used another summoning charm to get the vial he wanted. Then once the potion was in his hand Harry wasted no time downing it. He felt the bed dip beside him as a gentle hand was placed on the arm he had covering his eyes.

"You okay?" Sam's voice whispered.

"Yeah, just give me a second," Harry answered, taking a deep breath as the hangover potion began taking affect. When he felt that he could uncover his eyes without his head exploding the first sight Harry was met with was Sam's concerned face… and he looked away in shame.

"Harry–" Sam began, but Harry shook his head.

"Can we just… not talk about it right now?" he asked, his voice more vulnerable than he would have liked. Sam looked at him a moment before nodding, causing Harry to breathe a sigh of relief. It wasn't the first time he'd broken down in front of Sam like that, but it was the first time he'd broken down in front of Dean, and Harry wanted nothing more than to crawl under a rock and die.

Sam got up from the bed and walked over to his laptop. "So umm… this thing, whatever it is. It's corporeal if it can make a shadow like that, and it's got some serious claws and teeth," he stated changing the subject for Harry.

"The claws, the speed that it moves… could be a skin walker, maybe a black dog. Whatever creature we're talking about if it's corporeal, we can kill it," Dean said, and Harry worked up the nerve to look at the older man, but Dean had his back to him, and Harry figured he'd better get used to it, because whatever tentative relationship they'd developed before was obviously over now.

They got ready for the hunt in silence and not once did Dean acknowledge Harry's presence—not even to look at him. Sam didn't even speak to him, but Harry took that as a blessing because he didn't want to talk about what an idiot he had been last night. The things he'd said when they'd got back to the hotel room, while true to how he felt, were humiliating. Not to mention he thought he'd kissed Sam, and Harry prayed that it wouldn't make things awkward between them now.

Dean walked out the door to his car without a word and opened the trunk. He propped it up with a shotgun and put some pistols in a duffel bag as Sam and Harry followed him out. Harry wished Dean would look at him, yell at him, hit him, _something_. He didn't like this silent treatment. Harry knew that he deserved it for putting them in danger like that, for doing something so stupid, and as for the crush Harry had on Dean… he could get over it. Harry could put it aside, ignore it, but he didn't want Dean ignoring him.

"We cannot let that Hailey girl go out there," Sam said, breaking Harry out of his thoughts.

"Oh yeah? What are we gonna tell her? That she can't go into the woods because of a big scary monster?" Dean asked sarcastically.

"Yeah," Sam answered, shrugging.

Dean turned around after putting his gear away to face Sam. "Her brother's missing Sam. She's not just gonna sit this out. Now we go with her, we protect her, and we keep our eyes peeled for our fuzzy predator-friend."

Sam didn't like it, but he knew that he would do the same if it were Dean missing, so the three men gathered their things and went on their way to find Hailey and her guide. They pulled up and saw the girl and her youngest brother with a man they assumed was the guide.

"You guys got room for a few more?" Dean asked as he got out of the car. Each man grabbed their pack from the backseat and walked towards the small group.

"Wait, you want to come with us?" Hailey asked staring at Dean.

"Who are these guys?" The guide interrupted before Dean could answer and Harry already didn't like him too much as he seemed a bit cocky—and not in the good way.

"Apparently, this is all the park service could muster up for search and rescue," Hailey deadpanned while eyeing the three of them.

"You're rangers?" Roy said, disbelieving.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, reminding himself to keep cool and not to fidget.

"And you're hiking out in biker boots and jeans?" Hailey asked while eyeing Dean up and down. Harry averted his eyes and clenched down hard on his jealousy.

"Well sweetheart, I don't do shorts," Dean retorted as Sam snorted in amusement at the truth in that statement. Dean had never owned and would never own a pair of shorts.

The guide turned to glare at Harry who had been standing right next to Sam. "What, you think this is funny kid? Its dangerous backcountry out there, her brother might be hurt," he snapped, having assumed it was Harry who had laughed.

To Harry's surprise Dean started to step half in front of him, causing the guides glare to shift to him. Harry raised a brow, wondering if Dean was trying to protect him and wondering why that thought filled him with so much warmth.

"Believe me; I know how dangerous this could get. We just wanna help her find her brother, that's all," Dean said. The guide gave them a sneer and without another word turned and began walking off into the woods, all of them falling into step behind him.

**o0o**

"Roy," Dean started after they had been walking for a while, and Sam and Harry shared a look behind his back hoping that Dean wasn't about to provoke something. "You said you did a little hunting?"

"Yeah, more than a little," Roy replied, his tone condescending. Harry rolled his eyes—if only the poor man knew.

"Uh huh," Dean nodded. "What kind of furry critters do you hunt?"

"Mostly buck, sometimes bear," Roy answered not hearing or ignoring Dean's sarcasm as he tried to impress them.

"Tell me, uh…Bambi or Yogi ever hunt you back?" Dean asked. Roy stopped without warning and turned, grabbing Dean by the collar before any of them could react. Harry moved forward In a flash, grasping the hand Roy had on Dean and squeezing hard enough to make the man look at him with a wince.

"What do you think you're doing?" Harry hissed, theserious quality of his voice sending shivers down all of their spines. Dean and Sam were reminded that Harry had survived and _won _a war, and his eyes proved it.

Roy pulled his hand free of Harry's grip, a glare on his face. He picked up a stick from the ground and Harry watched as he stuck it into the ground, a metallic _clang _sounding as the bear trap where Dean had been about to step was sprung. "You should watch where you're stepping… rangers," he hissed before walking off.

Harry rubbed the back of his neck in sheepishness as Dean stared agape at the trap he had been moments from springing. "Dude," was all Dean said, eyes wide. Sam chuckled and continued on while Harry gave a shrug.

"Yeah… I guess his arrogance isn't _totally _unearned," Harry conceded, wondering if he should apologize as he left Dean standing there.

"Dude!"

**o0o**

After Dean's near break down at almost having his leg chomped off, they continued on their voyage, Dean no longer trying to incite Roy and Harry with a small hint of respect for the man. Hailey and her brother were taking point with Roy while Sam, Dean and Harry lagged behind. Every now and then the girl would throw glances at them over her shoulder, but it wasn't until several minutes later that she worked up the nerve to trail behind and confront them, her brother following behind her with a frown.

Harry raised an eyebrow as the girl matched their pace while her brother trailed behind; her eyes were narrowed as she stared at all of them in equal measure. "Can we help you?" Harry asked as she continued her quiet scrutiny.

"You didn't pack any provision," she noted, adjusting her own bag strapped across her shoulders. "You guys are carrying a _duffel bag_." Her incredulity was obvious but Dean only gave her a small shrug. "You guys aren't rangers, so just who the hell are you?"

Harry looked at Dean and the man just shrugged. "Sam and I are brothers, Black here is a close friend, and we're looking for our father. He might be here, we don't know. I just figured that you and me, we're in the same boat," Dean answered, deciding that the best course of action right now would be the truth.

"Why didn't you just tell me that from the start?" Hailey asked, losing some of her anger.

"I'm telling you now. Besides it's probably the most honest I've ever been with a woman–ever," Dean replied and Harry wanted to laugh because Dean had meant it sarcastically, but the sad thing about that statement was that it was true, and Harry couldn't find any humor in that.

"So we okay?" Dean questioned Hailey.

She thought for a moment and then smiled at them, causing Harry to give a sigh of relief. "Yeah, okay," she said.

"And what do you mean I didn't pack provisions?" Dean asked as he pulled out a large bag of M&Ms and backed away from the woman with a smirk.

"That'll keep you going," Harry laughed. Dean turned and pressed on without even acknowledging him, causing all the humor to flee from Harry's face. He bit his lip as he stared at Dean's back, jolting when someone brushed by him roughly. It was Hailey's brother, and this time Harry's eyes narrowed as he caught the looking the kid's eyes—_hate_.

He opened his mouth to confront the kid but he had already reached his sister, and Harry didn't want her against him—which he just knew is what would happen if he began trying to interrogate her brother. Sighing, Harry pushed all thoughts from his mind, using Occlemency to store away the distracting emotions that he _would _deal with later.

They continued their hike into the wood, the sun high in the sky but the leaves of the canopy offering minimal light. It was still bright enough to see, but Harry found himself stumbling more than he liked and stuck close to Sam, throwing obvious glances in Dean's direction and still being ignored.

"This is it," Roy informed them as they breached through the woods and stumbled into a clearing. "Blackwater Ridge."

"What coordinates do we have?" Sam asked as he rechecked the coordinates his dad had sent them.

Roy pulled a small device out of his jacket and stared down at it. "Thirty-five minus one-eleven."

Dean gazed around the surrounding trees. "You hear that?" he whispered, coming to stand beside his brother. His head was tilted sideways in listening, a concerned frown on his face. Harry cocked his head as well, straining to hear whatever it was that was a cause for alarm.

After several moments Harry shook his head. "What? I don't hear anything."

"Exactly," Sam answered. "Nothing. Not even crickets."

Now that the two mentioned it, the sounds of the forest had drawn to a halt, a hallow silence broken only by the sounds Roy, Hailey and her brother made as they began unpacking for the night. Harry frowned—he was getting rusty after two years of relative peace; he should have noticed such a thing. _Constant vigilance! _

"I'm gonna take a look around," Roy said.

"You sure that's a good idea?" Harry questioned, coming to the conclusion that _something _was out there—something that managed to quiet the sounds of the forest.

Roy gave him a smile that screamed his condescension. "That's sweet kid, really, but don't worry about me." He threw back his coat, revealing a hunting knife strapped to his hip. With a final mocking smirk, he brushed past them to walk further into the woods, Harry left gaping at his back.

"I _want _to like him, but he _does not _make it easy," Harry sighed, receiving nods of agreement from both Sam and Dean.

"All right, everybody stays together," Dean called, drawing the attention of both Hailey and her brother. The two stared in confusion as the hunters began walking away. "Let's go!" Having no other choice, the two followed after them.

Harry followed a few steps behind Dean, trying to work up the nerve to say something to him, but every time he opened his mouth his nerves got the best of him, which was frustrating considering he could face Voldemort but he couldn't open his damn mouth and apologize to his best friend's brother.

"Hailey, over here!" Roy s called out, causing Harry to growl in frustration as Dean moved away from him. It was official—he didn't like Roy at all, whether the man actually knew what he was doing or not.

Breaking through the thick foliage, the scene that met their eyes made them all stop short.

"Oh my god," Hailey breathed, a hand over her mouth as she took in all the horror. Harry knew what had to be going through her mind, and from the look of the camp site, he couldn't blame her.

The two tents that had been set up were knocked to the ground, supplies were strewn across the floor and worst of all was the blood—it was on the tents, it painted the grass red and filled the air with a metallic tang that made one's throat clog. It looked as if a grizzly bear had ripped across the site—but Sam, Harry and Dean knew otherwise.

Her brother was no better. His usual hostile expression was blown to the wind, his eyes wide and shoulders trembling as despairing thoughts flashed through his mind. Feeling pity for the young teen, Harry placed a hand on the kid's shoulder, causing him to jerk and stare up at him. The comfort was accepted without words, the teen's eyes sparking with a hint of gratitude.

"Looks like a grizzly," Roy stated, looking at the claw marks that had been slashed into one of the tents. Dean snorted, content to let the man live in blissful ignorance.

"Tommy?" Hailey yelled, running forward. "Tommy!"

Sam tried to hush her but the girl ignored him, once again screaming her brother's name. The tall hunter placed a hand on her shoulder, causing her to look up at him.

"Why?" she asked him in confusion.

Harry was getting tired of these people, despite the fact that he knew they knew nothing of what was really out there. But during the war in England, if someone said shut up you'd shut up instantly without question. They should have at least had enough common sense to know that.

"Something might still be out there," Sam answered her with a patience Harry commended him for. With that simple comment, the once innocent woods seem to take on a sinister hue to the pair of brother and sister. They looked around the woods, a shiver going down their spines for reasons they couldn't explain.

"Black! Sam!" Dean called. Sam and Harry turned toward where they heard him calling from and rushed over.

They found the man crouched down near a group of trees, studying something that had caught his interest. "The bodies were dragged from the campsite," Dean said, staring at the grooves going through the dirt. "But here the tracks just vanish. That's weird." He stood to his feet and gave a light shake of his head. "I'll tell you what…that's no skin walker or black dog."

"It's not a werewolf either," Harry commented, receiving two confused glances from the hunters. "They don't drag their victims off—and besides, the full moon had already passed by the time that girl's brother went missing."

Dean rolled his eyes and walked off, Harry staring at his back with a frown. A sharp pang pierced his heart and Sam must have noticed. The tall hunter placed a soothing hand on his shoulder and looked down at him with a comforting smile, no doubt knowing exactly what was going on through Harry's mind.

Harry tried to give Sam a smile as well, but when it failed he sighed and shrugged off Sam's hold. "Come on, we need to stay together," he said, following after Dean. Sam gave a sad shake of his head but trailed behind him.

They went back to the camp site and put down their bags. Harry, having been trained by the king of paranoids, kept his backpack on—just in case. Constant vigilance and all that, after all. His bag held a lot of precious things to him: his photo albums, his battle robes, his broom, even Sirius' motorbike was shrunk in there although it wasn't running as Harry hadn't found a mechanic he trusted enough to fix it yet. Harry practically held his entire life from the Wizarding world in that one bag and he didn't just set it down anywhere.

Hailey picked up a broken cell phone from a few feet away that had blood splattered on it, and her face transformed into a mask of distress. For the first time Harry put aside his pettiness and felt sorry for the woman.

"Hey, he could still be alive," Dean tried to reassure, and Harry felt his fondness for Dean growing despite the fact that he knew he shouldn't, but underneath all the macho sarcasm Dean was actually a pretty sweet guy.

All of a sudden the group heard someone cry out—a long drawn out scream that had them all turning toward the sound. "_Heeelp_!" Roy was the first to run off, Sam and Dean running off not long after. Next to go were Hailey and her brother, but Harry trailed behind, something nagging at the back of his senses. His inner Mad-Eye was telling him something was up, but with no proof he had no choice but to follow after the group, although he did take his backpack with him.

They rushed through the woods, leaping over logs and twining tree roots. Hailey's brother stumbled and would have fallen flat on his face had Harry not caught him as he ran by and steadied the boy.

"I got you," Harry whispered before running off, missing the astonished look sent at his back.

When he caught up to the rest of the group, they had stopped in another small clearing, their eyes wide and ears open for any sight or sound. Harry quieted his breath, blocking out the immediate sound of his companions and tried to focus only on the forest around them.

"It seemed like it was coming from around here didn't it?" Hailey asked in confusion as her head swung left and right looking for the sound. For several moments, no one spoke, each trying to find out who or _what _had been screaming for help.

Something seemed to click in Sam's head though and he turned around. "Everybody back to camp," he said, turning and jogging past Harry who had been at the back of the group.

They ran back to camp, only to find that all of their supplies had been taken while they were distracted. Harry closed his eyes, resisting the urge to bang his head against something solid. "I knew it," he muttered to himself. Why hadn't he just followed his instincts? That had been the first thing Moody had taught him, always listen to what your instincts were telling you. Harry felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to see Sam there and gave him a small smile.

"Our packs," Hailey cried in dismay, her eyes wide with disbelief.

"So much for my GPS and my satellite phone," Roy added, irritation ringing clear in his voice.

"What the hell is going on?" Hailey asked, going so far as to even stomp her foot.

Sam stood with his hands on his hips, a resigned look on his face. "It's smart—it wants to cut us off so we can't call for help." A chilly feeling settled in Harry's stomach and he bit his lips, his eyes going to the dim forest.

"You mean someone—some _nut job_ out there just stole all our gear?" Roy asked, swinging his gun with every other word he spoke. Hailey and her brother eyed the man.

Sam walked with Harry over to where Dean stood. "I need to speak with you two…in private," he whispered so that the others wouldn't hear. He led them away from the others and into a secluded section of the wood.

"What are we doing out here?" Harry asked, not quite able to make out Hailey and the others back at their campsite. "I thought you said it was a bad idea to split up?"

"We can still see em," Dean answered, surprising Harry. He thought the man had been intent on ignoring him, but with that one little comment Harry was no longer sure.

"Good," Sam spoke up before Harry could think on it further. "Let me see dad's journal." Dean took out a journal from his jacket pocket and handed it over to Sam. Sam flipped through it, looking for something.

Harry was curious about the journal but held his tongue, knowing that it would be explained to him soon.

"Alright, check that out," Sam said and showed the other two a drawing of what looked like a tall mutilated man.

It looked to Harry like something caught between a human skeleton and a werewolf if that were at all conceivable. The thing had long claws and razor sharp teeth. It looked like it was tall, at least seven feet, with abnormally long hind legs, much like a werewolves and its face looked to be caught mid transformation.

"What the hell is that?" Harry muttered, peering down at the page and noticing one word at the top of the page: _Wendigo_.

"Oh come on," Dean scoffed, a humorless smile on his face. "Wendigoes are in the Minnesota woods or northern Michigan. I've never even heard of one this far west."

"Think about it Dean; the claws, the way it can mimic a human voice," Sam listed off, a resigned look on his face. Harry understood a little of what a Wendigo was thanks to their conversation, but he couldn't understand why they both looked so… nervous?

"Great," Dean sighed, taking out a pistol from his jean waistline and waving it at Sam. "Well then this is useless." Sam just gave Dean back their dad's journal and he pocketed it once again.

"Okay, I'm confused," Harry admitted, looking at the two of them. "You seem… worried about this Wendigo. Apparently it's resilient to bullets, but is that all?"

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Wendigoes are like… werewolves. Except smarter—_much _smarter, and they're impervious to most things."

"Most things?" Harry asked, raising a brow.

"Everything except fire," Dean said, looking down at his gun in distress.

Harry gave a shrug, a small grin curling at his lips. "I can do that?"

The two brother's looked at him in shocked confusion, but it was Sam who asked, "What?"

"I'm a wizard, remember?" Harry said, removing his wand and letting it shoot sparks as his unused magic sung to be released. Dean jerked back in shock but Sam appeared considering. "I've dealt with creatures that are weak to fire. I like to think I've learned a spell or two. " Harry's cocky grin didn't relent, a rush of elation flooding through him as he would be able to show his worth in battle—his forte. After they saw this, they could never doubt him again… but Dean's suspicious wariness was back, causing a bit of Harry's excitement to leave him.

"That could come in handy," Sam stated, looking with a frown toward where Hailey and the rest waited. "But first we need to get those people to safety."

Harry realized then that he obviously had a lot to learn about the supernatural, despite having grown up mostly in the Wizarding world, having fought a war against some of the darkest creatures out there, and being educated in a Wizarding school. There was still a lot he didn't know. His education had centered mostly on wizards themselves and the magical creatures that lived in close contact with them. Wendigos didn't exactly fall into that category. He vowed that when he got back to civilization, he was going to Floo Hermione and ask her for all the books she had on American magical creatures.

Sam walked back to where the others waited with Harry and Dean right behind him. "All right listen up," Sam said, striding across the camp site. "It's time to go. Things have gotten more…complicated."

"Kid, don't worry about it, whatevers out there, I think I can handle it," Roy informed them with confidence.

Harry gave a quiet sigh. Roy might be able to protect them from bears and whatever other dangers that plagued most Muggles, but he wouldn't stand a chance with against a Wendigo.

"You ever think that maybe you _can't_ handle it?" Harry said, unable to hold back any longer. He didn't like Roy, but he didn't want the man to rush off and get himself _killed _either.

Roy looked to him in surprise and lifted up his rifle. "Boy, you see this?" Harry gave a wary nod, ignoring Dean snickering beside him. "With one blast of this, whatever it is that's out there—man _or _animal, they'll be nothing but a smear on the grass."

"But what if that doesn't work?" Sam asked, jumping to his friend's defense. "What if shooting it will only make this thing _mad_?"

Roy gaped, an incredulous look on his face. "One, you're talking nonsense; two, you're in no position to give anybody orders."

"Relax," Dean warned holding up a hand to stop the two men—or rather, Roy. He really wouldn't have minded much if Sam did punch the guy.

"We never should have let you come out here in the first place, alright?" Sam growled, irritation lacing his words. "I'm trying to protect you."

"_You _protect _me_?" Roy scoffed, walking forward to get in Sam's face. "I was hunting these woods when your mommy was still kissing you goodnight." Harry jerked, his gaze going to Sam and Dean and seeing that the man had struck a nerve.

"Yeah?" Sam began, his serious voice giving Roy pause. "It's a damn near _perfect_ hunter. It's smarter than you, and it's gonna hunt you down and eat you alive unless we get your stupid sorry ass out of here."

Roy laughed in Sam's face. "You know you're crazy right?"

"Yeah? You ever hunt a Wen—" Sam was cut off by Dean rushing forward and pushing him away from the man before he not only revealed their secrets but began a fist fight with the man as well.

"Roy!" Hailey yelled running up beside them. "Stop! Stop it! Everybody just _stop_." Sam drew in a resigned breath but appeared to be calming down. "Look, Tommy might still be alive… and I'm not leaving here without him." Both Sam and Dean looked away from the girl's gaze, realizing they had forgotten about her feelings and how much she wanted to save her brother.

"It's getting late," Dean began, turning solemn eyes on all of them. "This thing is a good hunter in the day, but an unbelievable hunter at night." Roy rolled his eyes, but Hailey appeared to be taking what Dean said to heart. "We'll never beat it, not in the dark. We need to settle in and protect ourselves."

"How?" Hailey asked.

"I can make us a fire," Harry offered, receiving nods of confirmation from the brothers. "Sam, Dean; one of you should come with me to get a bit of wood and the other should stay here with them—they don't know what they're dealing with." Harry hoped to seize an opportunity to get Dean alone, because he just _knew _Sam would offer to stay behind.

Without hesitation Sam answered as Harry thought he would. "I'll stay here, Dean, you go with Harry."

Dean frowned but nodded and headed off with Harry to the edge of the campsite. "So…" Dean started uncomfortably. "Why can't you just use magic to make the fire?" he asked.

Harry smiled. "Oh, I'm going to, I just need enough wood so that they won't suspect anything is amiss. See, we're not supposed to use magic in front of Muggles when they don't already know about it. I might be able to get away with a lot, but not when it comes to telling Muggles about us. That puts too many people in danger," Harry answered feeling nervous. "And I kind of… wanted to talk to you—alone."

Dean looked away from him, and Harry felt his throat tighten, but he pushed through it. "Umm… I just—about what I said the other night… I was drunk, and people say things when they're drunk, but it's just a stupid crush you know… or maybe you don't…" he trailed off, shaking his head. Dean Winchester didn't do crushes—had probably never had a real, heart-pounding, stomach-fluttering, breath-taking, crush on anyone in his life. "But I'll get over it okay. I just—I don't want you to be uncomfortable around me because of this. I don't want you to hate me so—"

"I don't hate you," Dean s stated, turning on him and startling Harry. Harry blushed at how close that brought them, nearly chest to chest, and took a step back. "I'm furious as hell, yeah, but I don't hate you."

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered looking down and avoiding Dean's gaze. He felt the man's heated stare burning into the side of his face, and he knew that that was where the faint bruise from the slap he had received last night was located. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I mean… I'll understand if you don't want me around you know…" Harry felt embarrassment squeezing his vocal cords and just knew he was making a fool of himself. "I'll just umm… leave you alone then."

As Harry walked away he heard a sigh and then felt a hand on his shoulder spinning him back around. "It's not… that's not—I'm not angry at you for being in love with me or whatever..." Harry felt his whole face light up in embarrassment and mortification. He wouldn't have gone as far as to say he was in love with Dean. He didn't know Dean that well, but he admitted that he liked him—liked him a lot—and was attracted to him more than he'd ever been attracted to anyone before, but love?

"I'm angry that you… I'm angry at—I'm just… You need to just watch out for yourself better," Dean snapped in frustration and then glared at him.

Harry was a little thrown off, and tried to comprehend what Dean meant. Dean wasn't angry that Harry liked him, he was angry that Harry had put himself in—what… danger?

"Okay…" Harry replied, trailing off in uncertainty.

Dean sighed and ran a hand over his face in frustration as he glanced at the bruise on Harry's face one more time. "Look, Sam and I won't always be there, and that guy, he could have—he _would_ have… What if Sam and I aren't there next time? You just—you need to be more careful," he finished turning away from Harry to gather a few sticks on the ground, not even checking if they were completely dry or not.

Harry moved to gather some as well, so that they wouldn't have to look at each other, because he knew that Dean was uncomfortable when it came to this kind of stuff. "That's the first time something like that has ever happened to me and I admit… I panicked. On campus, most of the guys were my age and well; that's the first time I ever umm… hooked up, with someone older than me, and I don't think I—well, _I know_ I wasn't thinking straight. I don't normally drink either, just when I'm—well sometimes it's just… I let things get out of hand last night, and I'm sorry."

Harry chanced a glance over at Dean and saw the man freeze for a second as he bent over to pick up another stick.

"Well next time you feel like drinking… don't. Just—just talk to Sammy about what's bothering you or something. He cares a lot about you and I don't want to see him hurt," Dean stated, and the 'or you' was left hanging in the air as Harry stared at Dean staring back at him for an unwavering moment. Harry nodded his head and Dean gave a jerky nod in return before they both turned back to finish their work in silence.


	6. Wendigo pt2

**Wendigo - Part Two**

**Lost Creek, Colorado**

_**Blackwater Ridge**_

"I think you're going to need more branches then that," Roy commented from over Harry's shoulder. "Do you even know how to make a fire?" Harry rolled his eyes at the overbearing man and held his wand so it couldn't be seen. With a muttered spell, a large fire crackled to life and Harry leaned back, sending a smug smile in Roy's direction.

"You aren't the only one whose gone camping, Roy," Harry said, standing to his feet. "I wouldn't underestimate people or things—it might just be your downfall."

"Is that a threat?" Roy asked, a harsh frown on his face.

Dean came up behind Harry and put a hand on the smaller man's shoulder, squeezing it. "Consider it a friendly warning," he said, sending a charming smile in Roy's direction. Roy scoffed and walked away, muttering under his breath something about 'fire' and 'never lasting.' Once Roy was out of earshot, Harry smiled up at Dean, guessing that this meant he and Dean were okay now.

"Thanks," Harry said, looking back down at the dancing flames.

"No problem," Dean replied in a gruff tone. "I'm going to take one of your sticks and draw symbols so the Wendigo can't come over and play." Harry chuckled and nodded his head. As he watched Dean swagger away, he didn't even notice as someone came to stand beside him.

"So I guess you and your boyfriend are back together, huh?"

Harry jumped in a shock, spinning around and coming face to face with none other than Hailey's amused brother. Heart hammering in his chest, Harry place a hand over the area and released a deep breath. "Jeez, kid, don't sneak up on me like that."

The almost teasing glint disappeared from the boy's face and he glared. "My name's Ben."

Harry winced, knowing how much he himself hated being called a kid at that age—hell, he still hated it _now _despite being in his early twenties. "Sorry, Ben," he said, receiving a small nod from the boy. But then Ben's previous comment flooded back to him and he straightened in indignation.

"B-Boyfriend?" Harry sputtered, a flush crawling across his face and an odd happiness spreading throughout him at the world. "Dean's not my…" he trailed off, gesturing into the air in place of the word.

"Oh?" Ben said, stuffing his hands into his pocket and staring off at where Dean was drawing symbols into the dirt. "With how you two acted I just assumed…"

"No!" Harry cried, trying and failing to keep his blushing under control. Really, what was up with him getting so flustered from the idle observations with some kid? "Me and Dean are just _friends_." _Although I would like there to be more… _The rest was said in his head, but Ben seemed to have heard and raised a silent eyebrow.

"So you aren't… you know?"

Now it was Harry's turn to raise a brow. "I'm not _what_?" he drawled, having a vague idea of what the young teen was talking about.

Ben gave an awkward cough and looked at the ground, muttering under his breath. Harry made a big show of being unable to hear him and Ben growled, "_Queer_! I said _queer_, alright?"

Harry nodded and gave the boy a teasing grin, hoping to appease him. "Yeah, I'm _gay_. Why do you ask?" Harry had no problem with his homosexuality and was open about it to anyone who asked. During his teen years he had tried to hide it, but with the love and support of his friends he had embraced it with open arms and now held his head up high.

"No reason," Ben grumbled, kicking at the ground. The boy had yet to walk away, and Harry knew that he must have had _some _reason to initiate this conversation.

"Whatever you say," Harry said, plopping onto the ground in front of the fire. On the other side of the camp, Dean was saying something to Hailey and Roy, and from the older man's reaction, Harry guessed it had something to do with all of the symbols he was drawing.

"Do you... do you think my brother's…?"

"I'm sure he's fine," Harry said with conviction, although he had no clue if the man was alive or not. However, there was still hope, and it was best not to assume the worst until they had reason to believe such. Even though their brother's campsite had been torn apart and blood littered the area, there had been tracks leading away from the area, which meant that the Wendigo had carried something away—there was a chance that was Hailey and Ben's brother.

Ben released a sigh of relief and sat down next to Harry, staring into the crackling red fire. There was still tension in his shoulders from worry of his brother, but the reassurance from Harry seemed to put his mind at ease, at least for the moment.

The two sat in companionable silence, Harry once more watching Dean, unaware of Ben's gaze boring into the side of his face.

"So you like him?"

Again, Harry jerked, staring at Ben in shock. The kid was just so silent that you forgot he was even _there_.

Sighing and knowing he was caught, Harry resumed watching as Dean conversed with his brother. Whatever they were discussing seemed to be heated, and the dramatic dip of Dean's brow was appealing… Breaking himself from the stupor he was falling into, Harry released a quiet breath.

"Yeah, I like him." He didn't see any harm in admitting it. The worst that could happen was that maybe Ben would tell Hailey, and the girl didn't seem the type to go around divulging other people's secrets and Dean already _knew _this anyway. There really was no reason to hide it.

"But he doesn't like you?"

Harry threw a sharp glance at Ben, but the teen was staring across the fire over at Dean, a frown on his face. "No… maybe—I don't know! Why do you _care _anyway?" Harry didn't mean to sound so grouchy, but Dean's attraction to him was a touchy subject.

Ben shrugged a single shoulder, his gaze trailing down to once more stare at the fire. "…No reason."

"No, really, I'm curious," Harry pressed. "I answered _your _questions; the least you can do is answer mine." Still, Ben remained silent—something he was very good at, Harry realized. However, he remembered the sneers Ben had thrown his way when he interacted with Dean and the dark look that entered his eyes when he thought no one was looking.

"Ben, are you gay?"

This time it was Ben's turn to jerk in shock and he nearly fell over in his surprise. Harry settled the boy with a chuckle, not wanting to be maimed by Hailey for allowing her youngest brother to fall into the fire. When he managed to settle himself, Ben gave a full bodied shiver and returned his gaze to the fire.

"_No_; thank god."

The relief in his voice was evident, even to Harry and he stared down at the teen. "You're not?" Harry asked dubiously. Ben glanced at him for a moment before looking away.

"No, I'm not…" He gave a quiet sigh. "I'm bi…"

Now Harry was more confused than ever. He had thought that maybe Ben was a closet homosexual and felt that was wrong, which was why he seemed so disgusted with Harry—but now that no longer seemed to be the case.

"Can I ask you a question?" Harry asked, waiting for Ben to nod. "Earlier—like, all day actually, you kept giving me these angry looks. What was that all about?" Ben flushed down to his neck, and Harry only saw it thanks to the light provided by the fire.

"I'm sorry about that," Ben said, voice quiet with true regret. "I just… I don't know… It's just that—uhg, I _hate _this!" Both of Harry's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline, looking around the campsite to see if anyone had noticed Ben's sudden outburst. They hadn't and Harry gave a quiet sigh, his gaze on the now trembling teen.

Harry reached forward to place a comforting hand on his shoulder, but was stopped short when Ben shot him a venomous glare. "_Don't_… touch me…" Eyes wide, Harry held his hands up in surrender.

"Calm down, I'm not some creepy pedo molester," Harry said, causing all of the fire to leave Ben's eyes.

"No, it's not—I'm sorry…" Ben sagged, as if overcome by exhaustion and sat with his hands clenched into tight fists. Harry wanted nothing more than to pull the troubled teen into a hug, but knew that such efforts would be far from appreciated.

"Ben?" Harry questioned, keeping his voice light as one would when confronted with a startled animal. "What's wrong?" The teen shook his head, but Harry knew that _something _was bothering him, and the boy was just _dying _to tell someone. "Ben, you can—"

"Help me!" came a desperate cry. Harry stood to his feet, Ben jumping up as well, both of them looking off into the forest where the cry had sounded from. Sam and Dean had their flashlights out while Hailey stood behind Roy who had his gun cocked and ready. "Please!"

Ben clutched onto Harry's arm and Harry glanced back at the boy, surprised. All of them were looking around in wariness, wondering _who _or _what _was out there, and what they hoped to accomplish by trying to lure them out.

"Help!"

"He's trying to draw us out," Dean warned them, taking cautious steps away from the clearing's edge. "Just stay cool, stay put…"

"Inside the magic circle?" Roy mocked, causing Dean to send him an unimpressed stare.

"Help!" They all turned, the voice now coming from a different direction. Hailey and Ben's breaths could be heard in the following silence, and Ben's grip on Harry's arm was almost painful. "Help me—" the cry broke off into choked moaning, a vicious roar ripping through the night and making Hailey release a short scream.

"Okay, that's no grizzly," Roy admitted, his gun pointed toward the woods. Sam, Dean, and Harry all rolled their eyes.

Hailey wandered over and Ben shifted his death grip onto his sister. "It's okay, you'll be all right I promise," Hailey whispered, the two of them huddling together.

For several tense moments, they all waited, wondering when either another cry would ring out or when the monster would attack. There was a rustling of leaves and a roar, once more causing Hailey to release a cry of surprise.

"It's here," Sam said turning in a circle to try and catch sight of it himself. Something shifted in the foliage surrounding them and Roy fired off a shot. Sam's flashlight shined on the area, but another roar had them all spinning to face the opposite direction.

Roy lined up his gun and fired, a bestial roar ripping sounding out. "I hit it!" he shouted, rushing forward to see the creature he'd slain.

"Roy, no! Roy!" Dean yelled at the man's back, releasing a silent curse when Roy disappeared from his sight. He threw a severe look over his shoulder at Hailey and Ben. "Don't move," he commanded, then ran after Roy, Sam following close behind.

"Here," Harry said, making a quick torch and handing it to a startled Hailey. "Take this—it hates fire." At their nods, Harry turned and ran after the brothers, his wand out and a Lumos cast to brighten his path. He could just make out the sound of them all rushing through the forest and he followed the sounds, hoping he could catch up to them before anything unfortunate happened.

"It's over here!" Harry heard Roy yell. He ran toward the sound, seeing Sam and Dean ahead of him. "It's in the tre—" They all arrived just in time to see a dark figure swoop down from the tree Roy stood under and snap his neck. With a vicious roar, the beast pulled Roy into the tree with it, vanishing in less than a second.

"Roy!" Dean screamed, his eyes wide with disbelief. Harry too could only stare with his mouth agape until he knocked himself from his stupor and pointed his wand at the tree, hoping to see a sign of the thing. He was tempted to burn down every single tree in the area, but even a forest fire probably wouldn't be enough to bring down the Wendigo.

"You stupid son of a bitch!" Dean shouted in anger, backing away from the tree and dragging Harry with him. Harry would have resisted, but the Wendigo had already fled with its kill and he didn't think he was fast enough to catch it—not on foot.

They arrived back at the camp and Hailey released a sound of relief. However, when she noticed that Roy wasn't among them, her eyes darted to each of them. It didn't take a genius to figure out what happened and Hailey drew in a startled breath, a hand raised to cover her mouth. Ben clutched himself more tightly to his sister and closed his eyes.

Harry felt for them. They were just ordinary Muggles thrust into a situation outside of their understanding. Once more it was a case of terrible things happening to good people, and to be honest, Harry was growing _sick _of it. While Roy might have been arrogant and a dick, he didn't deserve to _die_…

"We're going to sleep here for the night," Dean informed them, breaking Harry from his musing. "Sam, Harry and I will take turns watching over the site. Let's get some rest. We've got an early morning tomorrow." Dean sighed and ran a hand along his face.

Hoping to distract himself, Harry went through his backpack and pulled out four blankets for them.

"Okay, I've got four blankets, two go on the ground as sheets and the other two as blankets," Harry said and then set it up to make it look like two beds. "Hailey and Ben, you guys can share one so we don't wake you up when we rotate shifts." The two nodded and crawled into their makeshift bed without comment. Their eyes were hooded in exhaustion and Harry knew that they wanted nothing more than to forget about _any _of this—and sleeping happened to be the easiest way to achieve that.

When Harry was sure the two were asleep, he pulled out his wand and cast a tempus spell. "Okay, it's about ten o'clock," he said, putting a cushioning charm on the beds just to make them a bit more comfortable.

"We should let them sleep until eight," Sam said, looking down at Hailey and Ben. "They aren't used to this, they just found out that these creatures are real, and it killed their guide." Harry nodded in agreement. If he had any dreamless sleep potion, he would have given it to them without hesitation; he knew there was a chance the horrors may continue to haunt them in their dreams.

"Alright, so I'll take the first shift," Sam began, "Dean, you take the second and Harry since you're up early anyways, you take the last. We'll do three hours each." Dean and Harry nodded. "Harry, wake us up at seven and we'll all watch and pack up for the last hour."

Sam went to sit on a tree stump while Harry and Dean just stood in awkward silence. Harry decided to take the plunge and crawled into their makeshift bed, leaving enough room for Dean to lie down as well. A couple minutes later he felt Dean's shoulder brush his as he lay back, and then there was stillness.

"Uh, Dean?" Harry asked after a few tense moments.

"Yeah Black?" Dean grunted as he raised an arm and put it behind his head.

"You can uh, call me Harry… if you want I mean…" Harry trailed off, feeling stupid for having even brought it up now as there was a long silence from the warm body beside him. He felt his heart sinking more and more the longer the silence dragged on.

"Goodnight Harry," Dean whispered, and Harry felt a smile blossoming across his face, forgetting everything but how he felt in that moment. Closing his eyes, Harry said his own goodnights, the blissful warmth staying with him even in sleep.

**o0o**

At seven in the morning Harry woke Sam and Dean. He had used a few of the supplies they brought to cook breakfast, which wasn't more than baked beans, but the bother's appeared thankful and ate it readily, complimenting him all the while. Harry flushed under the praised—especially the ones from Dean—and it wasn't much longer till Hailey and Ben woke on their own, drawn once more to the land of the living by all the noise and the smell of food.

Harry made enough for everyone to have their fill and soon they were all satisfied and packed, each of them moving to separate parts of the campsite. Sam sat on his own against a broken tree stump while Ben and Hailey sat huddled together near the dead fire. Dean was leaning against a tree and Harry was going over their supplies, making sure everything was in order before they set out.

"I don't—I mean these types of things... they aren't supposed to be real," Hailey said to no one in particular, breaking the somber silence they had all descended into.

"I know how you feel," Harry spoke up, stumbling over a stray tree root and blushing when he was steadied by Dean. He flashed the man a grateful smile but Dean just shrugged it off, having thought nothing of it. "A-Anyway, I learned about this crazy new world when I was eleven."

"_Eleven_?" Hailey exploded, shaking her head. "That's so young, I can't… I can't even imagine…"

"I wish I could tell you differently," Dean said, pushing away from the tree and walking across the campsite.

"How do you guys find out about this stuff?" she asked, unable to wrap her mind around there being a secret world she knew nothing about. Harry snorted, even outside the magical creatures, he wondered what she would do if she learned of wizards or demons.

"It kind of runs in the family," Dean shrugged. "As for Bla—I mean, Harry, well…" The man looked at him and Harry gave a subtle shake of his head, not wanting to discuss the specifics of his own origins. To cover, Dean just gave a charming smile, but Hailey wasn't fooled. She looked between the two of them but refrained from commenting.

They all turned as Sam trudged over to them, looking worse for wear. "Okay, so, we've got half a chance in the daylight. And I for one want to kill this evil son of a bitch." Harry snorted at Sam's eloquence but couldn't refute his words.

"Well hell, you know I'm in," Dean said without hesitation. Harry finished his checking of their supplies and threw them a small smile.

"Count me in as well."

"Me too," Hailey said, conviction in her voice. They all turned toward her in surprise, Dean with his mouth open to refuse but Ben spoke first.

"If Hailey's going then… then I am too!"

Dean turned a shocked look toward his brother. "Dude, it speaks!"

Ignoring Dean, Sam stared at them both in consideration. "Alright—but if you're gonna hunt, you have to know what you're up against."

**o0o**

After explaining Wendigoes to Hailey and Ben, they all sought off into the forest, Dean carrying the tool they planned to use if Harry's magic failed: a homemade Molotov made out of a can of lighter fluid. The two non-hunters were pale and nervous as they followed the broken branches and traces of blood left behind by the Wendigo, and for good reason.

The trail was an intimidating sight and it appeared as if it would lead them straight to the den. It was easy—almost _too _easy. Harry's Mad-Eye senses were screaming at him in alarm, and this time he planned to heed them.

"Wait," he called, bringing all of them to a halt. His sudden cry made Hailey jump and she glared, but he ignored her. "Doesn't this feel too… easy?"

Sam nodded, a frown on his face as he gazed around the bloody claw marks engraved into several trees, in direct view of the sunlight. "I agree, it's like… it's like this thing is doing this on purpose. I think, these claw marks—" He was interrupted when a fierce growl sounded behind them, causing them to all turn toward where it came from.

To the left of them, the bushes rustled, the growl coming from a different direction in a flash. They turned in useless circles, trying to get even a _glimpse _of the thing but it was too fast. When they looked, it was always gone in a different direction, almost as if it were _teasing _them.

The sounds of a man being torn to shreds were soon added to the beast's twisted symphony. Hailey covered her ears and closed her eyes, hoping to block out the terrible sounds but they just grew louder, _closer_.

She backed up against a tree and felt something drip down onto the jacket she wore. Hailey stared down at the red liquid, a icy terror gripping her throat and leaving her breathless. With obvious reluctance, she stepped away from the tree and her gaze drifted upward. What she saw made her release a shrill scream and stumble backwards.

A body fell to the ground with a solid thump, Hailey falling onto her back in fright and Harry with his gaze never leaving the body. It was Roy, and his mouth and eyes were wide open in death, the shock he had felt mere moments before his demise forever etched onto his face.

"You okay?" Sam asked as he rushed over to Hailey and helped her to her feet.

Dean's face twisted as he stared down at Roy, hating the man but thinking the fate he received was far too cruel. "Okay run! Go!" he yelled, pushing them into action and throwing nervous glances over his shoulder. They all turned and ran back the way they had come, their hearts racing as they avoided any tree in their path and leaped over fallen logs.

In their haste to escape, they ended up branching off into different paths, but Harry paused when he heard someone fall to the ground with a thump and the groan that followed. Harry doubled back, just as he saw Sam helping Ben to his feet.

"Come on, I gotcha—we gotcha," Sam said, throwing a grateful look toward Harry. They continued running, unsure if they were still being pursued but stopping to check could mean death, so still they ran, their lungs burning from the effort.

In the distance, a loud scream sounded, one that could belong to no one other than Hailey.

"Hailey!" Ben yelled stumbling forward with Harry and Sam close behind. There was no sign of his sister and the boy looked as if he would crumble to his knees in anguish. Harry placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, but Ben shrugged it off.

Sam picked up what looked like a broken piece of Dean's Molotov, his mind jumping to the worst conclusion possible. "Dean!" he yelled, hoping for a sign from his brother. Only silence met him. He turned to Harry in desperation, a frantic vulnerability shining behind his eyes. "Can you do something? Can you find him?"

Harry thought for a moment, wracking his brain for every spell he knew and his eyes lightning when he thought of one. "I think so," he said before turning to Ben. "Ben, close your eyes."

Ben looked at him, reverting back to the distrustful kid he had met when they visited Hailey at their home. "What? Why?"

"Please, just trust us," Harry said, a bit of the frustration he felt at having to go through this in the first place seeping through. Ben eyed him for a moment before complying, his eyes sliding closed. Harry flicked his wrist and his wand slipped into his hand. He laid it in his right palm and whispered, "Point me, Dean Winchester."

The wand spun in multiple directions, as if confused. When Harry was about to give up and cancel the spell, it straightened like a faithful hunting dog and pointed a path through the trees. Harry's face lit up in relief and he nodded to Sam, telling him that was the direction they needed to go.

Harry put his wand away and grabbed Ben to drag him along as Sam made a path for them through the thicker parts of the forest.

"If it keeps its victims alive, why would it kill Roy?" Ben asked as they stumbled along.

"Honestly, I think because Roy shot at it and pissed it off," Sam answered. Harry grimaced, feeling a pang of guilt that he had been unable to do anything for Roy but he pushed the feeling aside, choosing not to dwell on it. Now wasn't the time, that thing—the Wendigo—had _live _people in its nest, and Harry would do everything in his power to make sure they would leave that way.

He removed his wand and it spun in useless circles, making him cry out in frustration. Was the Wendigo moving its victims, or was his magic just trying to make things difficult for him?

Off to the side, Ben made a sound of triumph as he came upon a trail of M&Ms. "I think they went this way!" he said, causing Harry to hide his wand and jog over to the boy, Sam not far behind. Ben had a smile on his face as he handed the candy he had found to Harry.

Sam couldn't help but laugh despite the situation. "It's better than bread crumbs," he joked, looking at the M&M over Harry's shoulder. Harry chuckled as well, shaking his head at the surprising brilliance of one Dean Winchester.

"And my point me spell," Harry added on, not caring if Ben overheard. The boy hadn't; he was already taking off after the colorful trail, the same hope in all of their chests burning the hottest inside of his.

They trekked through the forest, climbing down a small embankment and looking around. There were metal constructs scattered around, and the metal all seemed to lead to a tunnel entrance boarded over with wood. One the front was a sign that read, 'Warning! Danger! Do no enter. Extremely toxic material' and high above the first was another which read, 'Keep Out No Admittance.'

Harry read the sign that said 'Keep Out' and couldn't refrain from raising a sardonic eyebrow. He didn't comment however, not wanting to alert the Wendigo to their presence and ruin their element of surprise.

Inside, the tunnel was a narrow expanse of rock that stretched on as far as the eye could see—which wasn't every far, considering the meager light provided from the tunnel mouth. Along the floor was a track used for mine carts and in the distance they could make out the sound of dripping water. An acrid damp smell seemed to permeate the air, but it was bearable and they all trudged inside, Sam throwing his flashlight around at anything suspicious.

A rumbling growl echoed from the far end of the tunnel and Sam cut off his flashlight, grabbing Ben's shoulder and leading them into a separate tunnel. They pressed themselves against the wall, the sound of bare feet slapping the ground reaching their ears. Beside Harry, Ben was drawing in gasping breaths and Harry hoped the Wendigo didn't have enhanced hearing, otherwise it would hear them a mile away.

They all watched as the Wendigo shuffled pasted, its gangly limbs standing out in stark contrast to the light coming from the tunnel it traversed downward. It stopped for a moment and Ben looked as if he would scream, but that was stopped when Harry covered the boys mouth and gave an almost imperceptible shake of the head, halting the action. Once the Wendigo resumed its walking, Harry let go of Ben, his own breathing stilled as he waited to see if the monster would return.

Sam nodded his head and Harry nodded back, the three of them continuing onward and Ben clutching onto Harry like the lost and frightened teenager he was. As they continued walking, they all heard a creaking sound, all of them stopping as one as they stared down at the floorboard they stood atop.

With a final groan, the wood gave out underneath their feet, but at the last second Harry jumped forward, saving himself from a fall that would have no doubt been terrible. His heart gave a lurch when he heard the sound of Ben and Sam colliding with the ground but he silenced the scream that wanted to bubble forth. He couldn't alert the Wendigo to their presence, if the beast hadn't already heard the floor collapse.

Harry scrambled over to the hole and could just make out Sam's flashlight creating a strong beam of light. "Sam!" he whispered loudly, praying that they were safe. "Ben? Can you guys here me? Are you alright?"

He heard Ben give a startled gasp and Harry almost jumped into the hole after them, but managed to restrain himself. "What is it?" he asked louder, at least knowing they were alive.

"We're fine!" came Sam's sure voice, putting Harry's fear to rest. Still, his eyes darted toward the tunnel the Wendigo had disappeared down and hoped it wouldn't be making its way back. "We're in some kind of cave," Sam continued, his voice tinged with a hint of disgust and confusion.

"Are you hurt?" Harry called down, biting his lip.

There was several moments of silence before Sam said, "No, we're alright! Just a little—Dean? Dean!"

Harry looked at the hole with indecision, torn between playing it safe and his longing to see that Dean was fine and well with his own eyes. "Aw, bugger me," he sighed before leaping into the hole, giving a gasp of pain as he landed on his feet, his ankle jarred from the impact. A scream wanted to slip past his lips, but years of war training quieted it into a pained whimper.

His gaze slipped over to where Sam and Ben stood and the pain in his ankle disappeared. Dean was _alive_! Sure, he looked a little worse for wear but he was _alive _and moving and that was all that Harry could ask for.

"Hailey, wake up," Ben was almost chanting to his own sister, earning a pained grunt from the girl in response.

Stumbling forward, Harry stood at Sam's side as the tall man cut them down. "Dean, you sure you okay?" Harry asked, unsettled by how even the simplest movement seemed to cause Dean pain.

Dean grimaced and slumped against the rock wall Sam propped him against. "Yeah, where is it?" he questioned, looking around the cavern they were in.

"It's gone for now," Sam answered, looking up when Hailey gave a sudden gasp. The girl's gaze was directed to the far corner of the room where another boy hung and Ben helped her walk so they stood in front of the young man.

Choked sobs escaped her as she stared at where her brother hung, not moving. "Tommy," she whispered in despair, reaching out a trembling hand to touch his face. As soon as she did, the man gave a gasping breath and he returned to consciousness, startling a scream from Hailey as she reared back in shock.

"Cut him down," she said to Sam and he pulled out a knife to cut the ropes binding Tommy. Hailey cradled the man as he slumped into her arms, Ben clutching onto his free side as he sobbed in happiness and _relief_. "We're gonna get you home," Hailey told her brother, drawing a smile from the battered man.

"Check it out," Dean called, using the wall to pull himself to his feet. In his hand were two guns which he waved with a cocky grin on his face.

"Flare guns," Sam said, a matching grin lighting his face. "That'll work." Harry could have laughed at their luck. Indeed, he could torch the Wendigo bastard, but that was a last resort considering the Muggles they had with them.

Dean laughed and twirled the guns in his hand, his smile never faltering.

**o0o**

The six of them were once more traversing through the dark tunnels, Harry and Dean taking point with Hailey and Ben supporting their brother in the middle. Sam covered the rear, each of them ready and prepared to do whatever it took to escape with no lives lost.

A rumbling growl reverberated through the tunnel, causing all of them to stop. Sam had his flare gun drawn and pointed while Harry fingered his wand, prepared to draw it and cast a spell at a moment's notice.

"Looks like someone's home for supper," Dean stated, his voice loud in the narrow tunnel.

"We'll never outrun it," Hailey said, adjusting the arm her rescued brother Tommy had slung over her should.

Dean looked at Sam, doing that mind reading thing that reminded Harry of the Weasley twins. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Yeah, I think so," Sam answered.

Harry looked between the two. He knew Sam well, so if Sam was thinking it, then that meant— "No!" Harry protested, knowing exactly what Sam would do in a situation like this. "Let me—"

"No!" both Dean and Sam stated at the same time.

Harry shook his head. "You guys have what—one shot, maybe two if it doesn't kill you all before you reload," he reasoned looking down at the gun in Dean's hand. "If I get away from them," he continued glancing at the Muggles to get his point across, "I can take him out easily."

"That might work," Sam admitted, but both he and Dean still looked unconvinced.

"Try to remember who you're talking to," Harry deadpanned, reminding them not to underestimate him, although he had to remember that they'd never seen him really use magic on a major scale. "All right, you three stay with Sam and Dean," he told the Muggles, giving them conforming smiles when they stared at him in shock. "Don't worry, I may be the smallest in the group, but I can kick Dean's ass."

"Hey!" Dean cried, but Harry just gave him a cheeky grin.

"What are you gonna do?" Hailey asked in concern, the look mirrored on Ben's face as well.

He ignored the question and instead said, "Don't worry, it takes more than a flesh eating beasty to kill me." Harry chuckled at the incredulous looks on all their face and turned to leave. Before he could get far he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see smoky green eyes.

"Be careful, Sammy needs you around," Dean whispered, and Harry felt his smile widen despite the danger he was about to run headlong into.

"All right come on," Sam said, going the opposite way of his best friend despite his heart telling him to turn back. "Hurry!"

Once Harry was sure Sam, Dean and the other Muggles were headed toward the entrance he removed his wand from its holster and cast a silent Lumos, the spell strong enough to bathe the entire tunnel with light. He gazed at the slick walls, a grimace on his face as he began the search for the Wendigo.

His steps were light and his breaths were shallow, old war instincts coming back with a vengeance. He was in enemy territory playing by the enemies' rules. The Wendigo was faster, stronger, and hell, maybe even smarter. All Harry had was his magic and his natural instincts, but hopefully that would be enough, otherwise…

Harry didn't let himself finish that thought, instead going over every spell that could possibly be useful and wondering where the beast was.

"Where are you, you bastard?" Harry whispered, gazing around a corner and finding no sign of it. "I could have sworn it was—" He was cut off by the sound of a roar; a fierce rumbling that came from the direction he had been walking _away _from.

It was headed toward Dean and the others.

With a curse, Harry spun on his heel, limping because of his reckless jump after Sam and Ben earlier and cursing the limb. If there was ever a moment he wished he had his trusty Firebolt, _this _would be it.

The sound of the Wendigo's growls were growing louder, and Harry's breath hitched when he heard the sound of a flare gun firing. He ignored the pain of every step he took and continued forward, _praying _he would make it there in time.

At last, he stumbled upon the tunnel where he had separated from the rest, and the sight that greeted him made him stop short. The Wendigo was there, illuminated by the vague light pouring in from the tunnel entrance and by the stream emitted from Harry's wand. It was a hideous creature, appearing to look like a hairless werewolf with long twisted limbs and thick skin which stretched tight over its lithe form. Its hands were long and gnarled, wicked claws growing from its fingers instead of nails. And clutched in its hand was none other than…

"Dean!" Harry shouted. Dean was pinned to the wall by his throat, his hands clawing at the Wendigo holding him in a hopeless bid for freedom. The hunter's eyes flickered over to him, the sight of those cloudy green eyes snapping Harry's brain back into gear.

With a shouted curse, flames spewed forth from his wand like a jet and connected with the beast, making it howl in pain and release Dean. The spell had scorched the left side of its body, the dry skin along it darkening.

It released another howl as it turned to Harry, recognizing him as the more serious threat. The Wendigo crouched low, prepared to spring into action, but Harry was ready. As soon as the beast lunged, so fast it was little more than a blur, Harry was already rolling and felt his hair rustle as claws missed his face by mere inches.

"Harry!" he heard Dean cry, but he couldn't afford to look—the Wendigo was already rolling with its momentum for another strike. Before it could, however, Harry pointed his wand and again sent forth a long stream of flames.

The Wendigo released another furious growl, held at bay by the flames, snapping its jaws in anger. It turned, prepared to flee, but Dean had returned to his feet and had his flare gun trained on the Wendigo's chest.

"Bon appétit, bitch," Dean growled before firing the weapon. There was a loud bang as the flare was fired, the bullet passing through Harry's jet of flame and exploding in a magnificent display of fire and light.

Harry gasped in shock and leapt to the ground, able to feel the edge of the explosion lick and touch at his face. When the last of the fire disappeared, Harry lowered his hands and looked at the blackened walls and ashes, all that remained of the once fearsome beast.

"Not bad, huh?" Dean smirked, twirling the flare gun on his fingers as Harry stood to his feet. Harry gave Dean a deadpan stare and snorted, noticing for the first time that Hailey and her brothers were there—and that they were watching Harry with wide eyed astonishment. Behind them, Sam gave a helpless smile.

Harry tried to walk forward but his ankle screamed in protest and he stumbled, almost falling. A strong arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him nearer, Dean once again being there to catch him when he fell. He tried not to think too much on it, but couldn't help the tingling sensation that moved up and down his spine.

"Looks like someone saw my little lightshow," Harry muttered as Sam, Hailey and her brother's walked from the corner they had huddled in to look at the remains of the Wendigo.

"Don't worry," Dean whispered with a conspirator's smile. "We'll tell her you're a fairy or some shit; after this whole Wendigo fiasco, she'll _have _to believe it."

Harry raised an eyebrow, as if to say, '_Really_?' but had no chance to comment as Sam suggested they get out of there. No one objected.

Just as predicted, when they exited the tunnel to find the sun high in the sky and shining down on them, Hailey asked, "What was that back there?"

"That was a Wendigo," Harry sighed, hoping she would drop it. When she appeared unsatisfied, he looked at Dean's large grin and stared at the ground. "I'm… a fairy." Dean gave a choked laugh, but broke off into a grunt when Harry elbowed him.

"Really?" Hailey asked, unconvinced.

"Yeah," Harry shrugged. "Fairy's are well known for their fire conjuring abilities—right Sam?"

"What? Oh, uh—right," Sam said, trading a look with his brother and realizing they were trying not to out Harry as a wizard. "Oh yeah… there's all types of lore on… fairy fire."

Hailey hummed, apparently satisfied.

It was a long and tedious walk through Blackwater Ridge to get back to the entrance, and the sight of it was like water to a drowning man. All of them sighed with relief, glad that it was just _over_.

They were all about to pile inside the Impala when Dean asked Harry something that was bugging him. "How did you know exactly what Sam and I were planning? You're not some kind of mind reader are you?"

"Please, you're talking to the leader of a war whose best friend was a strategist. I got used to the kind of plans he came up with and I could tell by the look on his face what it would entail," Harry answered with a snort, although telling Dean that he was a mind reader could have been rather amusing. "Besides, me and Sam are alike, so his plan had to have been something only a _crazy _person would try—which means something even _I _would come up with."

Dean looked at him in amusement and helped him slide inside the Impala, everyone else squeezing inside as well. Hailey, Ben, and Tommy were in the backseat and Sam was driving because Dean was hurt—which left Harry to perch on Dean's lap as still as stone in the passenger seat as they made their way to the ranger station. Harry tried not to think of how he was practically sitting on little Dean and Dean himself tried to keep his soldier from rising to attention. Harry was going over every potion he could remember while Dean sang AC/DC and Metallica songs in head.

They were both out of the Impala in a flash once they arrived at the ranger station, and when the man there saw the condition they were in he wasted no time in calling the police. In no time at all, the sun had set and the station parking lot was alight with police cars and ambulances. Harry had just finished giving his account on what happened—"It was a ten foot tall cheetah-grizzly… seriously!"—when he saw the Ben had just finished his interview as well.

He hobbled over to where the boy stood watching as his eldest brother was loaded onto a truck. The two stood there in silence, just watching.

"Thanks," Ben whispered. Harry turned to look at him, but the teen still had his gaze on Tommy.

"No problem," Harry said, shrugging.

"So you're a _fairy_, huh?" Ben teased, chuckling when Harry gave him a light push. They lapsed into silence, Ben's gaze drifting down toward the ground and his shoulder hunching.

"But—the reason," he began, causing Harry to look down at him in confusion, "the reason why I kept glaring at you was because… because I was trying to be like my brother…" Ben gave a choked sob as he once more looked at Tommy, his eyes pained. "I just… I just don't want him to hate me! He's always like 'fag this' or 'homo that' and if he _knew…_"

"Ben," Harry breathed, placing a comforting hand on the smaller boy's shoulder. He could feel Ben shaking underneath his palm and felt his heart ache for the teen. "Ben—listen. Your brother, he loves you!"

Ben shook his head, fighting back tears which wished to flow. "You don't _understand_. The way he _talks, _it's just—he'll hate me!"

Harry sighed and squeezed Ben's shoulder, looking to where he could see Tommy being treated by the paramedics. "Look, Ben… I won't pretend to know what type of person Tommy is, but I do know what type of _brother _he is. He loves you—I mean, he takes videos of himself everyday and _sends _them to you! My sis is lucky if I can find the time to call her even once a _month…_" He trailed off with a sigh, wondering if Hermione thought he didn't care.

"You have a sister?" Ben sniffled, rubbing his eyes.

"Well, not really," Harry admitted. "She's just a close friend, but I think of her as my sister. And I know that no matter what she does, I couldn't hate her. I think your brother is the same, Ben…"

Ben drew in a deep breath, his eyes still wet but burning with a hopeful spark. "…You think?"

"Of course I do! Just look at your sister," Harry said. She looked up at that moment and saw them talking. Her eyes landed on Ben and a smile that radiated with love seemed to make her face glow. "You should trust your family, Ben. As for Tommy, well… maybe he doesn't really feel that way. Maybe he was just trying to emulate someone—just like you."

Ben stared at Harry for a long moment before nodding, a smile transforming his otherwise sullen face. "Thank you Harry," he whispered. Harry just nodded and watched as the boy turned and ran forward to embrace his sister, Hailey catching him in her arms and throwing a look at Harry over his shoulders.

Harry just waved before turning and walking back to the Impala where Sam and Dean waited.

"What the hell was that?" Dean asked, leaning against the car with his hands shoved into his pockets. "You and that Ben kid have been gettin pretty cozy since we began this hunt… Is there somethin we should know about?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Nothin," Dean said with a shrug, a hint of amusement curling his lips. "Just didn't take you for a cradle robber is all."

"Oh, sod off," Harry snarked, smiling when he heard Dean laugh. "Me and Ben are just friends, that's all."

Dean held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay… " He sighed and took out his car keys. "Man I hate camping."

"Me too," Sam agreed, and then looked at Harry.

Harry shrugged. "Meh, I'm used to it." They looked at him in disbelief. "What? I had to camp for a year and make sure my tracks were covered so I didn't get discovered by a megalomaniac and his insane followers. Though yes, my tent was nicer than usual thanks to magic, I kind of enjoy it."

"Weirdo," Dean said as Harry slid into the backseat. He looked at his brother. "Sam, you know we're gonna find dad, right?"

"Yeah I know…" Sam trailed off. "But in the mean time… I'm driving."

Dean tossed him the keys and got into the passenger side, shaking his head.

"Better not scratch my baby," Dean warned, and though Sam laughed Harry knew that Dean was being serious.

"Yeah, Yeah," Sam replied, as Harry merely propped his sore ankle up and prepared for the long ride ahead.


	7. Interlude pt2

**A/N: **And this is where we began our trek into uncharted waters...

We get a bit more, "So... Sam?" and this shall be its true test! If people are diggin it there might be more, but if people are still turned off... well, guess there would be no helping it.

Oh, also, this chapter is completely unbeta'd, so I'm sorry for all those nasty grammar errors and spelling mistakes which might slap you in the face. Don't be afraid to point em out, but I'd love to hear everyone's thoughts on this development as well.

And one final important note: There won't be a chapter next week.

Sorry, I know, I know. Before you send in the hate mail, I promise there will be a chapter the week after next!

Now then, please enjoy the latest chapter and realize this is in no way me trying to distract you from your displeasure~!

* * *

**Interlude - Part Two**

Outside the windows of the Impala, the sky was alight with the glow of stars and the scenery was a swirling mass of shadowed color as they drove past. Harry lay in the backseat, his swollen ankle propped on the upholstery while Sam drove with Dean in the passenger seat, watching his brother and sniping at him when he so much drove a little too close to the middle of the lane.

Sam sighed, fed up with his brother when Dean once more reminded him to "ease over to the right a little" as Sam made a rather easy turn. "I know Dean," Sam said, his knuckles white as he clenched the steering wheel. "I've only know how to drive since I was _twelve_."

"Yeah and Dad made you learn with _rentals_. How many cars did you wreck again?" Dean gave his brother an innocent smile. Sam ground his teeth together, silent as his eyes stayed on the center of the road. In the backseat Harry rolled his eyes, releasing a quiet noise of exhale as he settled.

The small sound caught Dean's attention and he shifted in his seat to look back at the man. "Dude, are you sleeping already? It's barely even eight PM!"

"Knock it off Dean," Sam said before Harry could even open his mouth. He threw concerned glances at his best friend as he drove, but with Harry's back to them, he couldn't see his face. "This was Harry's first hunt. I remember how _I _felt after mine. Remember that ghost in Tuscaloosa?"

"Aw, I remember that!" Dean exclaimed, a fond smile on his face. "Yeah, you puked all over Dad's favorite jacket. Good times, good times."

Sam blushed, his eyes once more flickering to Harry and finding his mortification deepening when he saw Harry's shoulders shaking in silent laughter. "That's not the point," Sam bit out. "The _point _is that the first hunt is hard."

"It wasn't for me," Dean said with a shrug, turning to look out the window now that he was done teasing his brother. "Maybe you were just a pansy?" Or not.

"Most of us aren't _you _Dean," Sam sighed, rolling his eyes. "To you, hunting is as natural as swimming is to a fish. But the rest of us? We aren't so lucky."

Harry rolled over, interrupting before the two could degenerate into a pointless argument. "I'm fine guys, really. I just… I have a lot on my mind." Sam and Dean both looked back at him, Dean with an unreadable expression and Sam with his eyes shining in understanding. "I'm fine," Harry stressed, knowing the two didn't believe him.

"Harry," Sam began. Dean snorted, making his brother look at him in confusion.

"He said he's fine Sammy, so maybe that means he's fine." Harry felt his eyebrows rising, astonished that Dean appeared to be sticking up for him. Sam however, was less than impressed and a scowl darkened his face.

"Oh, come on Dean; Harry's my best friend I think I'd know if—"

"Merlin, you two are like some sort of married couple!" Harry exploded, unable to comprehend just how much they argued. It seemed like every other moment, they were bickering over something that made not one lick of sense to an outside observer. "Just so we can move past this: yes_, _I am indeed fine Sam, thanks for the concern, but I just have a few things on my mind."

There was complete and utter silent in the Impala after Harry's outburst, Harry himself having once more turned his back on the two and used his hands as a makeshift pillow as he settled into the leather. Dean sat with his mouth the slightest bit agape while Sam just blinked, not able to remember the last time Harry had snapped at him.

After several tense moments, Dean coughed and shifted in his seat. "Told you."

Sam just grimaced, unable to come up with anything else.

In actuality, Harry had stretched the truth a bit. Yes, he was _fine_, but the problem wasn't what the Winchesters most likely thought it was.

Harry had been in a war, he knew that it was impossible to save everyone and he had come to accept it. Still, that didn't mean he didn't mourn their passing, because he _did_. It just meant that it was a life lesson he had learnt years ago, and while he didn't like it, he would deal in his own way.

So no, he wasn't shaken up over the death of Roy. While it was cruel, Roy's death had been because of his own hastiness and there wasn't a lot Harry could have done to stop it. There was an infinite number of 'ifs' and 'buts', but such things wouldn't change the past.

Harry had accepted what happened during the hunt, and because of the Wizarding World, such supernatural existing didn't bother him in the slightest. What _did _bother him, however, were the words Ben had spoken to him before they departed and the word's Harry had used to comfort him:

"_You should trust your family."_

If Harry were to be honest with himself, those words made him the biggest hypocrite in the _world_. It had been almost a month since he began traveling with Sam and Dean, and that was also the last time he had spoken with his own family—more specifically, with Remus.

In the beginning, Harry had tried to contact his friends and family as much as he could, but it had been difficult. With Hedwig killed during the war and being reluctant to get a new owl, he had to wait for his friend's to owl him before he could respond. Despite what Harry had thought, fireplaces were not exactly common in America, and the same was true for its colleges. When Harry received the two-way mirror Remus gave him on his birthday, communication became a little easier, but by then Harry had integrated so far into his new life that sending updates to his friends had become an afterthought.

And now that he had even gone so far as to become a _hunter_, well… Harry thought they at least deserved that much. But, he was also afraid of what they would think of him afterwards.

Hunters were on par with Death Eaters in the Wizarding World in terms of hatred, and if his friend's discovered what he had decided to become…

Harry found himself wanting to laugh. His situation mirrored Ben's so perfectly that it was almost scary.

"_You should trust your family."_

Yes. Harry would follow his own advice and trust his family.

**o0o**

When Harry awoke, it was to the sound of Sam and Dean muttering to each other and the slam of car doors as the two got out. Mind still clouded in sleep, Harry couldn't understand what was going on till his own door opened and the upside down face of Dean entered his vision.

"Oh, you're awake—damn, I was looking forward to carrying you." Harry just blinked and Dean coughed, stepping out of Harry's range of vision. "Well, since you're awake, come on."

Harry sat up with a groan, rubbing his eyes as his brain tried to comprehend where they were.

"We're at a motel," Dean told him with a chuckle. "Sam went to get us a room and—ah, speak of the extremely tall devil."

Sam strode across the motel parking lot toward them, a set of keys in his hands. He tossed the keys to Dean, saying "I'll get our stuff," as he went over to the trunk.

Sighing, Harry got out of the Impala and followed Dean into their dark motel room. The hunter flicked on the lights and the unimpressive sight of their room became visible.

Dean gave a large smile, as if the place looked like home, before taking off his shoes and plopping onto the nearest bed face first. The man bounced before settling, a low groan escaping him as he sank into the mattress. Normally, Harry would laugh at Dean's antics, but now? Now all he could do was _wonder… _

What would his friend's think when they learned he was pining after a hunter? What would they think when they learned his best friend was a hunter and that they both knew all about him and the Wizarding World? Hell, what would they think when they learned that Harry _himself _had become a hunter?

In their eyes, becoming a hunter might very well mean that he proclaimed himself as the next Dark Lord, which was _insane_—but hey, the Wizarding World had believed _worse_.

Sam came in moments later with their bags on his shoulder and sat the luggage down with a small grunt. He closed the door and was about to make his way to the bed where he and Harry would sleep when he caught sight of his friend.

Harry stood in the middle of the room, his eyes distant and morose as he stared down at Dean. Dean was unaware of the look, snuggling into his scratchy motel pillow and already dreaming of hot girls, the next hunt, and _pie_. Harry too featured in those dreams, but if asked, Dean would deny it.

"Harry?" Sam called, receiving no response. With a frown, he walked over to his friend and waved a hand in front of Harry's face. Still no response. "Harry!" He grabbed the smaller man by the shoulders and gave a firm shake, Harry's eyes snapping onto him in shock as he was returned to the normal world with a jolt.

"S-Sam?" Harry asked, blinking around at the room as if he had no idea how they had gotten there. That only caused Sam's worry to grow stronger and he gave Harry's shoulders a firm squeeze.

"Harry, are you okay?" Sam questioned. When Harry just gave him a nonplussed quirked eyebrow, he elaborated, "For the past few days, you've been pretty… distant. Like now, you spaced out and looked like you didn't even know where you were! What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," Harry said, brushing off Sam's hands. He ignored the man's warm brown eyes boring into him with purpose.

Sam scoffed, stopping Harry when the shorter man moved to walk away. "No, Harry, talk to me! This isn't _nothing_. What's wrong?"

Caught and unable to escape, Harry began chewing on his lip, a sign to anyone who knew him that he was worried about something. "I…" Harry's eyes flicked up to Sam and then over to a sleeping Dean before he stared down at the floor. "I'm a hunter, Sammy."

_That_ hadn't been what Sam expected to come out of his best friend's mouth, and his grip on Harry slackened. "I don't—I don't understand," Sam admitted, shaking his head.

"I helped you guys kill a Wendigo," Harry said, laughing a laugh so devoid of mirth that it made Sam wince. "At first it didn't really _mean _anything and I didn't really understand but… now I do. I'm a hunter, Sammy—a danger in the eyes of wizards everywhere."

"Oh, Harry," Sam breathed, pulling his best friend into a hug. Harry clutched onto him, his fists digging into the fabric of Sam's shirt almost to the point of pain, but Sam allowed it. He could feel Harry's shoulders shaking and he felt his own heart breaking in response.

When he had suggested Harry join he and Dean as a hunter, he had been selfish, thinking only of himself and his own desire for Harry to never leave him. Never once had he thought to question what Harry's friends and family would think of this; never once had he thought that if it became known that _the _Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived had become a hunter, then the outcry would be _explosive_. There was a chance they would even order Harry's _death_.

The thought of such a thing caused a hand to grip Sam's heart and he found it hard to breath.

"I'm sorry," Sam whispered into Harry's hair, rubbing up and down Harry's back in an attempt to ease even a fraction of his anxiety. "I'm _so _sorry. If you want, you can leave right now. You'll never—"

"No," Harry whispered, his voice so fierce and full of resolve that Sam stiffened in shock. Harry looked up, his familiar emerald eyes shining with unshed tears but also with a fire so bright Sam thought he would be blinded by it. "I'll never abandon you Sammy, even if it means the whole Wizarding World turning its back on me."

Sam couldn't allow that. Harry still had friends and _family _in Britain, unlike most hunters who had so little to lose. Sam still had Dean and his father, yes, but they were hunters as well and even then they weren't the most _stable _of family.

"Harry, no—"

Harry cut him off with a firm shake of his head. "This is my choice Sam, and besides, it's still too soon to jump to conclusions. I… I trust my family, Sam, and I hope when I tell them of the choice I made that… that they'll trust me as well."

Faced with such conviction, all Sam could do was nod, bolstered by the faith Harry seemed to hold. "They will," he said, hoping to reassure himself as much as Harry. "If they are good enough to have earned your trust then... then I trust them as well."

"Sammy," Harry whispered, a smile blooming on his face that for a moment left the tall man breathless. "Thank you."

Sam chuckled, trying to brush the weird moment away with little success. "D-Don't… don't mention it," he said.

Harry graced him with another smile before the man turned and Sam watched as the shorter man slipped under the covers before turning to him with an inviting smile, patting the empty space next to him. With a small cough, Sam removed his shoes and jacket before sliding into bed, trying to put as much space between he and Harry as possible.

"Goodnight Sam," came Harry's quiet voice.

"Night Harry," Sam said.

Long after Harry's breathing had settled into even inhales, Sam found that sleep eluded him, his thoughts in a sudden turmoil. He blocked the more… unpleasant ones with purpose, and the rest he simply ignored.

It wasn't until the early hours of the morning that Sam finally drifted off to sleep, the comforting glow of shining emerald eyes chasing the nightmares away.

**o0o**

Harry's eyes snapped open, his vision adjusting to the darkness of the room in a matter of seconds.

Sometime during the night, Harry managed to wrap himself around Sam, their limbs tangled in a twisted design. They were both snugglers by nature and many a time Harry had awoken to find himself contorted around Sam like some sort of demented pretzel.

In his own bed, Dean grumbled something in his sleep which sounded like "goddammit Harry gimme back my pie" before he rolled over and continued his quiet snoring.

Sighing, Harry removed himself from Sam and stood to his feet with a yawn. A quick glance at the clock told him it was almost four AM but Harry knew he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep. Moody made sure that when he was up, he was _up, _so Harry decided to get ready for the day.

After a quick shower and change of clothes, Harry scoured the motel room to see if it came stocked with a coffee maker. It was a pretty run down place, but Harry had slept in worse and in the end he found the maker inside the bedside drawer of all places.

He hooked the device up and began preparing some of the bland coffee provided by the motel—complimentary, of course. As he waited, he studied the sleeping face of Dean, taking in the man's hard angles smoothened out in sleep, how his eyes that were able to both twinkle in mirth and burn with dark efficiency were now closed with his eyelids fluttering lightly. And then there were his lips.

Harry shuddered. They were parted in sleep, pouty as always, and Harry could think of at least five naughty things that he wanted to do with them.

Dean shifted in his sleep and Harry jumped, pretending to check on his coffee in case Dean had awoken. A quick glance showed that Dean was still asleep and Harry released a quiet breath, a frown on his face as he stared down at the blinking coffee machine.

What was he doing, pining after Dean…? It had already been made obvious that Dean was a womanizer—or rather, _person_izer—and even if by some miracle, Dean decided he wanted to pursue something with Harry… what then?

Did he expect them to ride off into the sunset together and live the life he had always wanted?

…Yes. That was exactly it.

But he _knew _that wasn't how it would be; he _knew _that being in a relationship would Dean would have its own problems and it wouldn't be as easy as he hoped.

Yet still, that did nothing to take away his desire to be with him. Even though his mind supplied him with an endless number of reasons for why even breathing the same _air _as Dean was a bad idea, his heart ached at the simple thought of them being apart.

And in the end, Harry's heart would always win out over his head. That was just the way he was and how he always _would _be.

The coffee maker gave a beep, signaling it was done and Harry poured himself a cup, not taking the time to add creme or sugar—he liked it black and as the scalding liquid slid down his throat he could feel the energizing effects already taking hold.

He had decided.

He would remain with Sam—and despite his brain telling him otherwise—with Dean. They had wormed their way inside his heart, and once a person managed to do that, Harry never let them go.

Harry snorted, watching the top of his coffee ripple.

Who was he kidding? Running to America had been exactly that.

He had been letting his past life go, letting go of all of the bad, all of the hurt. But what he hadn't realized was that he was letting go of all of the _good _as well.

Remus, Hermione, Neville, Fred and George…

They had never abandoned him, never turned their backs on him, even when it would have been _better _for them to have done so, they hadn't. Yet Harry, without once turning back, had set off on a new adventure, leaving them all behind…

He was selfish, and this sudden blow left him breathless, the porcelain mug which contained his coffee shaking in his fingers.

Even so… even so, he was afraid. He was afraid of telling them the _truth _and how they would react. The straw that broke the camel's back. The _one _thing that would finally turn them away…

Drawing in a shuddering breath, Harry shook his head. No—he wouldn't have doubts. He _knew _his friends… his family. They wouldn't turn their backs on him, not even if he announced that he planned on becoming the supreme ruler of earth. They would trust his good intentions and stand by him, through thick and then until the very end.

That was just the type of people they were.

Harry didn't know when the first tear fell, but it slid down his face and impacted his coffee with a silent ripple. A choked cry left his throat and he sat the mug on a nearby table, his fingers shaking so badly he feared he would drop the cup and awaken Sam and Dean.

Harry didn't just cry for the friends he had left behind, he cried for everyone—for everyone who had lost their life in the war and for everyone who had suffered the heartache of knowing what it was like to lose a loved one.

He cried until his eyes stung but tears no longer fell, he cried until his throat was sore from the sobs which threatened to break forth but which he silence. And once the tears had dried on his cheeks, Harry climbed to his feet and went over to his back to retrieve an item—a mirror.

Then, shoulder's set, Harry shot one final look at the still sleeping pair of brother's before walking out of the hotel room and into the cool night outside.

The sky was dotted with twinkling stars and the crescent moon illuminated the otherwise dark expanse of the parking lot. A chilly wind blew, ruffling Harry's hair and signaling the approaching winter.

Harry's breath ghosted the air as he trekked across the parking lot toward Dean's Impala. The doors were locked, but a simple Alohamora took care of that and he climbed into the backseat, using a warming charm to do away with the settling cold.

For some reason, Harry's heart beat inside his chest with heavy thumps, his breathing loud in the quiet parking lot and the mirror which he had gotten from his bag clenched in white knuckled fists.

It would be around noon in Britain and Harry knew that Remus would be home, but still Harry hesitated, doubts assaulting his mind and trying to convince him that this was a bad idea.

Harry pushed those insecurities away with prejudice and brought the mirror to his face. Then, drawing in a deep breath, Harry spoke.

"Remus Lupin."

For a moment, Harry's own resigned face stared back at him, however, seconds after he had said the name, the mirror rippled like a lake disturbed by a single rock, Harry's face becoming distorted. At last, the image changed and solidified, the haggard face of his godfather staring back at him.

Remus blinked, as if he couldn't believe his own eyes, but then shock took its place, followed quickly by happiness.

"Harry!" Remus cried, his tired face seeming to transform. "Merlin, Harry, how have you been! I've tried to contact you and I even tried to _owl _you but all my letter's came back unopened. Are you well? I just—Merlin, Harry—"

"Moony!" Harry interjected with a fond laugh, a burning fondness overtaking him. A large smile split Harry's face and already he could feel tears burning behind his eyes. God, he had wanted to run _away _from this. "It's good to see you as well, Remus."

Remus paused, his eyes narrowing before a pleased smile appeared on his face. "You _are _well; I'm glad. When I couldn't get in touch with you, I—well…"

Harry's grin melted away, his eyes clouding over. "I'm sorry. I should have contacted you right away; I-I know how nervous you were about me telling Sam about who I really am and… well… I'm sorry."

"Quite alright," Remus said quietly, a look in his eyes that Harry had seen before. It was the look Remus used when observing Teddy doing something memorable, a look that spoke of Remus's pride, his happiness, his _love_. Just seeing that look directed at him, Harry found his throat clenching and a prickling feeling once more entering his eyes. "I'm just glad you're safe Harry; nothing else matters."

That did it.

The tears which had been building a new spilled over and trekked down Harry's cheeks, yet he did nothing to brush them away.

"Remus," Harry choked, unable to hold back the building emotions inside of him when confronted with the eyes of the closest thing he had to a father. "I—Remus… I have something to tell you…"

Concern was in Remus's gaze, but that _love _and _devotion _was there as well, almost sending Harry into another fit of bawling.

"What is it, cub?"

_Cub_.

Harry choked, his eyes squeezed closed as he felt the warmth and love Remus conveyed with that single word.

"When I… when I decided to tell Sam about me, he gave me a choice... I could either walk out the door and they would hunt me later, or I could stay, and hope they wouldn't kill me after I told my story."

"Harry…"

Harry still had his eyes closed, but he could _feel _Remus's stare on his face. He just knew that if he opened his eyes, there was no way he could tell him, so he kept them closed.

"I told them about you," Harry admitted, his voice pained and no more than a whisper. "I told them that you were a werewolf and asked if they would ever hunt you… At first they said yes, but then they admitted that they would never hurt an _innocent_—and despite what happened with Snape, you're _innocent _Moony.

"After that… I… I didn't know _what _would happen. I mean, so many things had happened, so many things had _changed_. I haven't even told you everything…" Harry trailed off with a sigh, the memory of Jess being tortured flashing behind his closed lids.

"A-Anyway," Harry pressed on, "Sam, he…he gave me a suggestion… He and his brother were looking for their father, and he offered me a chance to travel alongside them… As a hunter."

Remus drew in a startled breath, and Harry bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, easily able to imagine the look of comprehension no doubt on Remus's face. But Remus wouldn't accept it until Harry said it out loud, until he confirmed the suspicion which Remus already accepted on some level as true.

"And I… I accepted." Drawing in a deep breath, Harry brace himself. "I'm a hunter, Moony, enemy of supernatural beings everywhere."


	8. Interlude pt3

**A/N: ***peaks curiously from around corner*

Um... Hello. I know this chapter is late and I apologize for that, but I hit a bit of wall that I've now gotten past, so hopefully the next chappie won't be so late? Well, until then, please enjoy this chapter!

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Harry squeezed his eyes closed and gritted his teeth, waiting for the onslaught of disparaging words which he knew would spew forth. Remus would no doubt hate him now; he would whisper his name with the same amount of loathing once shown to Voldemort and soon the tale of _Harry Potter _would be told to naughty children with threats of being swept away at night if they didn't behave.

So Harry waited… yet, the words never came.

He could hear the blood rushing through his ears, but it wasn't loud enough to block out neither the utter stillness of the night nor the slow even rhythm of Remus' breathing, signifying that the man hadn't ended their call.

"Harry?" Remus called gently, though Harry still flinched as if he had been yelled at. "Open your eyes…"

Faced with such a soft demand, Harry didn't know _what _to do.

Behind his closed lids, he could imagine Remus's warm amber eyes darkening in disgust, the love he had once saw shining there replaced with hate.

Harry wasn't sure if he could _bare _it, the pain of losing such an important person in his life. But… this was _Remus_. The same gentle man who had helped him face his fear of Dementors and the same man who had taught him how to summon a patronus. The same man who, despite having such a terrible condition, could laugh and enjoy life and who looked at him with love and called him cub, and…

Slowly, Harry allowed his eyes to open, the world appearing distorted for a moment as his vision adjusted. Then, he directed his gaze downward, steeling himself for condemning stares and a face twisted into a cold scowl.

But instead what Harry found were the same gentle eyes staring back at him, a kind smile on the man's face that left Harry feeling bewildered.

"I don't care," Remus said simply.

Harry just blinked, unable to comprehend what he was seeing, let alone what he was hearing. "W-What?"

"I know I said some things before that may have given you the wrong idea, but… Harry, you may not know this, but I've come to think of you like one of my own, and no matter _what _you do or _where _you decide to go in life—I'll support you. Do you hear me? I love you, cub, no matter _what_."

"R-Remus…" Harry was left speechless. His throat was clogged and the world was once more veiled behind the tears springing to his eyes. He could no longer see the affection shining in his godfather's eyes, but he could _feel _it.

He could feel it washing over him, warming him, _accepting _him. And although Harry hadn't realized it—that was what he needed. Someone who could accept him, _all _of him. The good and the bad. His triumphs and his fuck ups.

"T-Thank you," Harry choked out, unable to manage much more through the pitiful sobs and whimpers escaping him, "…thank you."

Remus chuckled, a warm smile in his voice. "You don't have to thank me, Harry. That's what families for; I'll always be here for you."

Harry didn't think he could cry harder, but those simple words proved him wrong. He didn't know how long tears leaked from his eyes, but by the time they slowed, his throat was raw and his eyes were bloodshot and stinging.

Still, he had never felt better in his entire life.

**o0o**

Sam was always an early riser, yet on that particular morning as he crawled toward awakening, he couldn't help but feel that something was… off. Beside him, the bed was cold, but that wasn't anything new as Harry was prone to waking up before even the worm.

Still, Sam stared at the empty bed, something clenching in his chest that he couldn't put a name to. Sighing, he climbed out of bed and looked over at his brother who was still sprawled out on top of the messy sheets, his limbs hanging halfway off the bed.

The younger brother snorted at the sight and then broke into a long yawn. It was early, and the sun was just beginning to make its way over the horizon to bless the world with light.

Sam yawned and scratched himself as he looked through the window. That feeling of something out of place was still nagging at the corner of his brain, but sleep addled as he was, he didn't pay it much notice.

He took a seat at the lone table in the motel room and waited for Harry to appear with a bright hello and a cup of his signature coffee. Sam had always asked what the secret ingredient was, and every time Harry would grin and say it was "magic." He had thought that Harry just didn't want to reveal his secret, but with the knowledge that Harry was a wizard all along, he wasn't so sure.

Either way, whether Harry used magic to spice up his cuisine or not, he had been designated the unofficial cook, seeing as how Sam and Dean couldn't even boil water.

Though they had only been traveling together for a short while, they were slowly learning each other's habits and settling into their roles of the group. It was easiest for Sam of course, as he was used to rubbing elbows with Harry at all hours of the day, and as his brother had once said—old habits die hard, and already he was settling back into the familiarity that was hunting.

Sure, Harry and Dean still managed to tick each other off now and then—with most of the teasing coming from Harry and ending with Dean being mildly put out—they were still developing a bond of sorts, and Sam still wasn't quite sure how he felt about it.

On one hand, he was happy that his brother and his best friend were getting along. On the other hand, however, he would have to beblind _and _stupid to not notice the looks they sent each other's way or the not so subtle flirting they did constantly.

Sam sighed and shook his head. It was morning and he didn't want to deal with such complicated issues. Right now, he just wanted his coffee.

Already his mouth was watering at the thought of taking the first sip of Harry's signature brew, and he could almost _smell _the coffee beans roasting.

Any minute now—Sam stilled.

Now that he paid attention, there was a distinct lack of any type of smell except for the musty smell of the hotel room. The bathroom door was open, and no sound emanated from inside, which ruled out Harry taking a shower.

In a flash, Sam was on his feet and looking around, all traces of sleep having been blasted from his eyes. Like a bolt of lightning, the previous conversation he had with Harry leapt to the forefront of his mind, and he felt like an idiot for allowing Harry to leave his sights—even if that moment had been while he was sleeping.

He _knew _Harry was hurting over the chance that his friends and family may leave him, and he _knew _that although Harry didn't show it, that he did have some reservations about becoming a hunter.

Sam wanted to slap himself. Harry's shoes were missing, which meant that he had gone out, but his bags and clothes were still there, which alleviated Sam's fears by the slightest bit. The war-weary wizard wouldn't go anywhere without his most precious items, not unless he was taken away by force…

The thought was slain before it could even manifest itself in his mind. There was _no one _that Harry had been taken from right under their noses, not when both Sam _and _Dean had been with him the entire night…

…But what if Harry hadn't been in the room? What if he had decided to go for a walk and—_No. _

Sam shook his head, trying with all his might to dispel the worrying thoughts. He was overreacting; Harry was fine. He had just stepped out for a moment and would be back in no time…

Even though Sam thought this, his still threw on any clothes he could find and slipped on his shoes. In less than thirty seconds, he was out of the motel door.

The cool wind slapped his face mercilessly, berating him for not staying inside where it was warmer and for daring to brave the cold in only a t-shirt and a pair of jeans and a thin jacket. Sam, however, ignored the unforgiving weather and looked around the parking lot, hoping to find Harry already on his way back.

But no such thing met his eyes. Harry was nowhere to be found.

He was just about to rush back inside and wake up Dean—who he was sure would support his paranoid overacting—when the sound of a car door opening caught his ears. He turned toward the direction it had come from and there stood Harry, holding a mirror and staring at him in curiosity.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, but after a minute, Harry shivered and folded his arms around himself.

"Sam, what—"

"Harry," Sam breathed. In a few long strides, he was in front of the smaller man. Harry craned his neck to look up at him, his confusion evident, but before he could respond, Sam leant down and swept him into a crushing hug.

"Oof! Sammy?" Harry choked, his face buried in Sam's chest.

"You're okay," Sam said, more to himself than Harry. "You're okay,,"

Harry relaxed into the hold and allowed himself to be rocked. There was a small smile on his face, and despite the cold biting at his exposed limbs, he felt warmer than he had in years.

"Yeah… I'm just fine."

Sam released a sigh he didn't even know he'd been holding, comforted by the mere _presence _of Harry and his smell. He hadn't even known how much he feared Harry one day leaving him until he awoke to find Harry nowhere in sight.

Maybe he was overreacting, and maybe there would one day come a time when they would be forced to part—but that time wasn't here. That time wasn't _now. _Until that day came, Sam did _not _plan on letting go.

"Where did you disappear to?" Sam asked, stepped away from Harry but keeping both hands on his shoulders. "And what were you doing in the Impala?"

Harry smiled, a bright quality to his eyes that gave Sam pause. "I told him Sammy."

Although he already had a vague guess, still he asked, "Who?"

"Remus," Harry said, his smile radiant. "And he accepted me."

Harry's enthusiasm was infectious, and Sam soon found himself smiling as well. "That's great Harry. I knew you were right in deciding to trust your family."

Although a grin was on his face, Harry still shivered when a cold wind blew. Winter was still a ways off, but its approach was less than subtle. Sam noticed Harry's plight and wrapped a comforting arm around him, letting Harry share his warmth.

"Come on, let's get inside and make you a cup of coffee."

"Sure thing, _mother_," Harry said with a roll of his eyes. However, his eyes were dancing, and Sam knew that meant he was still in good spirits—and would most likely be for a long while.

They began their trek toward the motel room, Harry almost buried in Sam's jacket for warmth.

"To answer your second question, I came out to the Impala for a little alone time."

Sam raised a teasing eyebrow. "Can't you just do it in the shower like everybody else?"

Harry gave Sam a slight push which Sam just chuckled at. "Oh, bugger off. I didn't come out here to do _that_. I came out to use _this_." Harry lifted a gold-plated mirror and Sam just stared at it, unsure of what Harry meant.

"You came out here to… fix your hair?"

"No," Harry sighed, once again rolling his eyes.

"If you keep doing that, they're going to get stuck."

"Sam!"

"Sorry, sorry," Sam said, chuckling. Harry just sighed and folded his arms. They were outside their motel room now, but neither made a move to go inside.

"I guess you wouldn't know, but this mirror is magical." Harry glared, daring Sam to interrupt him. The taller man threw up his hands in compliance, a devious glint still in his eyes. "Anyway, I guess you could say it's like those high-tech communication devices you always see in Muggle sci-fi movies. Remus has a mirror charmed like mine, and with it, we can communicate with each other, no matter where the other is."

Sam was now staring at the mirror in serious consideration, his gaze pensive. "That's pretty handy… and his face appears in that thing when you use it?"

Harry smiled, staring down at his own reflection in the mirror. "Yes… It was a birthday present some years ago. You'd think that with this I'd always stay in touch, but…" Harry trailed off with a helpless shrug.

"Harry… That's not your—"

"Don't lie to me Sam," Harry whispered, shaking his head. "It _is _my fault. Relationships are a two-way street, and if I don't put in the effort to stay in contact with my old friends, then…"

For a moment, there was silence. Sam ran a hand through his hair, searching for words of comfort that wouldn't be constituted as a 'lie.'

To be honest, outside of Harry, Sam didn't have a single friend. All of the people who he stayed in contact with by commenting on their MySpace page every once in a while weren't his "friends." They were just people he held onto to maintain a sense of normality. A sense of being connected to a world that wasn't all about slaying demons or burning the bones of some ghost.

But what Harry had… Harry had true bonds. True friendships that he would crawl through hell to salvage.

Sam thought that he didn't know what that was like because of the fictional world he had tried to mold himself into, but when he looked at Harry and thought of what it must be like for his friends whom he had left behind, he _knew_.

There was just something about Harry—something magnetic that drew people toward him. And once you were caught, there was no getting out.

And that was what allowed him to speak the next words with confidence.

"It's never too late, Harry." Harry looked at him in confusion, not understanding, so Sam elaborated. "If the bonds between you are half as strong as you think they are, then nothing—not even time—will be able to erode it. Look Harry, I won't sit here and claim to know anything about the people you left behind, but I know _you_, and I know how good of a friend _you _are… and I know that if it was me, I would welcome you back into my life with open arms. Well… after kicking your ass of course."

"Sammy…" Tears were shining in his eyes, but Harry's smile was nothing short of angelic. "T-Thank you… I—I needed to hear that."

Sam looked away, his cheeks tinting the slightest bit. "Don't mention it. Now let's get back inside before Dean wakes up and thinks we've been kidnapped by some demon."

"Like you?" Harry teased, wiping his eyes.

"Hey, I didn't think you were kidnapped by demons," Sam defended, opening the door and stepping inside. "I thought it was wizards."

Harry paused in the doorway, staring at the back of Sam's head incredulously. Then, before he could help himself, he dissolved into uncontrollable giggles.

Sam turned around with a frown, embarrassed. "Hey, I was worried…. Cut me some slack."

From out a nowhere, a pillow appeared and smacked Sam in the face.

"Some people are tryin to sleep here!"

With his work done, Dean gave them a final glare and settled back into the sheets. Harry had froze and quieted when the pillow hit Sam, but the look on the tall man's face was _priceless_.

Harry laughed so hard tears began to leak from his eyes, but he tried to remain quiet, for Dean's sake.

"It wasn't that funny," Sam muttered as Harry closed the door behind him, his shoulders still shaking in mirth.

Harry just stared. Sam cracked a smile.

"Okay… it kind of was."

Sam watched with fond eyes as Dean was once more awakened. Harry and the irate hunter began arguing about something or other, and Sam knew he would have to intervene at some point, but for now, he was willing to let things be.

For a moment, it felt as if life were perfect.


	9. Bloody Mary pt1

**A/N: **Fiiinally got around to uploading this chapter. Sorry for the wait~!

Thanks to everyone who reviews, alerts, favs and whatnot. It really makes my day!

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**Bloody Mary - Part One**

**Toledo, Ohio **

_**Small Town **_

It had been a few days since Harry's first hunt at Blackwater Ridge, and he and the two other hunters were once more on the road after taking a 'vacation' of sorts. Harry had claimed that he was fine and Dean had backed him up, but a single look from Sam had them both relenting.

Harry had tried to relax and enjoy himself, but his mind was too preoccupied. He had told Remus his 'secret', but there was still Hermione, the twins, and the rest of his friends who still deserved to know. He had only told Remus because he was feeling vulnerable and the man was like a father to him—he deserved to know the most out of anyone.

By that logic, the next person he should tell would be Hermione. And despite the success he had with Remus, Harry couldn't shake off the thought that the book-loving girl would resent him. It had been half a year since he had last contacted her, and she was always the more… prudish member of the Golden Trio during their Hogwarts days.

While she had indeed mellowed out _considerably _after the war, her rule-abiding ways were still a part of her, no matter how distant.

Just as Harry was thinking about Hermione lecturing him about the repercussions of being a hunter, a small sound from the front of the vehicle drew his attention.

Dean was driving as usual, and asleep in the passenger's seat was his younger brother, Sam. The man had his eyes screwed tight, a frown on his face. Sam flinched in his slumber, no doubt having a nightmare, and by the look on Dean's face, he had taken notice as well.

"Sam—Sammy, wake up," Dean whispered softly as he reached over to shake Sam's shoulder, glancing occasionally at the road as they drove.

Harry sat up straighter in his seat, a frown marring his face as Sam twitched and didn't awaken. The man shifted, whatever dream he was trapped in appearing intense.

"Sam!" Harry shouted, reached forward to shake Sam as well. He had suffered his share of such nightmares, and he knew a gentle waking wasn't always the best course of action.

Sam jerked awake and looked around frantically until he was able to get his bearings straight. He blinked twice and stared ahead, aware of the two pair of eyes boring into him. "I take it I was having another nightmare?" he asked, sitting up and clearing his throat.

"Yeah, another one," Dean answered glancing over at his brother in worry.

"Hey, at least I got some sleep," Sam tried, but neither Harry nor Dean were buying into his fake act.

"You know, sooner or later we're gonna have to talk about this," Dean stated as Harry looked between the two. Sam had been having more nightmares than Harry lately—which was saying something, as Harry had considered himself the record holder for most nights spent in the throes of terror. However, Sam was giving him a run for his money.

He knew that the man's nightmares were about Jess, and while Harry had suffered his share of nightmares concerning the girl as well, he was just better at _dealing _with such things than Sam was. The hunter may have been used to death, but he wasn't used to death which struck so close to home you could still feel its icy fingers brushing the back of your neck long after the fact.

Harry wanted to talk about it, but he knew such a thing wouldn't work. Sam had never pressed Harry about his nightmares, so Harry felt it was only fair to return the favor. He would let Sam talk when he was ready—if one could _ever _be ready to talk about such a thing.

"Are we here?" Sam asked to change the subject. With a sigh Dean let him.

"Yup, welcome to Toledo, Ohio," Dean answered with a bored tilt of his head. The town looked just as boring as all the others they had passed through to get there.

"Toledo, Ohio," Harry sighed, gazing disinterestedly out of his window. "Bugger me if I've ever seen a less interesting place in my entire life."

Sam gave a quiet chuckle. "When you come from a place with enchanted castles and pixie dust, pretty much everything in uninteresting in comparison."

Harry's lips twitched upward while Dean shifted uneasily in his seat. "You guys hungry?" he asked, already pulling into the first diner they came across.

They got out of the Impala, Sam and Harry exchanging dubious glances as they walked into the shady looking diner. Harry had learned pretty early on that it was a good thing he wasn't a heath freak like Sam, otherwise he would have starved by now considering the questionable places Dean seemed drawn to. Really, he didn't know how Sam managed; he seemed to be surviving on pint sized salads and gallons of water.

Harry released a small yawn as they sat at a table, Dean on one side and Sam and Harry on the other. He hadn't gotten much sleep the night before due to a nightmare from hell—or more like the final battle, so Harry barely even noticed when the waitress came over and asked what they wanted to order.

"Harry?"

Broken from his thoughts of collapsing right there at the table, Harry glanced around, seeing the looks he was getting from both the hunters and the waitress. He sat up in his seat and cleared his throat.

"What?"

"Your order?" Sam asked patiently.

Harry stared and then looked down at the menu which sat unopened before him. "Uh…"

"He'll have what I'm having," Dean cut in smoothly, saving Harry from making a fool of himself too early in the evening.

The waitress smiled and sat off to deliver their order, Dean's eyes following after her as she left.

"I wouldn't mind having a piece of that," the perverted hunter whistled. The waitress, perhaps having some sort of whore sense, looked over her shoulder and gave Dean a wink before disappearing into the kitchen.

"Is that really necessary?" Sam sighed, taking the words right out of Harry's mouth. The wizard himself wanted to speak up, but he really had no say in the matter.

He and Dean weren't together. Harry had tried to delude himself into thinking that he could get over his infatuation with Dean, but who was he kidding? He blamed it mostly on the fact that he and Dean were around each other nearly twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, and seeing Dean walk out of the bathroom on numerous occasions with nothing on but a towel wrapped around his hips didn't help things much either. If anything Harry's crush—or rather feelings—had only gotten worse, but something he could do was ignore it. Ignoring his emotions was something Harry was good at… unless he'd been drinking, which he hadn't done since the "incident" back in Colorado.

Dean just shrugged in response to Sam's question. "Not really, but I like a little foreplay." He chuckled lecherously and Sam just groaned. Harry pretended to be engrossed in the menu so no one could see how much Dean's cavalier attitude affected him.

The blonde waitress from before came back and placed down their orders, taking special care to bend in such a way that her cleavage was on prominent display.

Harry couldn't keep the sneer from his face. What was it with restaurant waitresses always being female STD vending machines? Just once he wanted to meet a polite _male _waiter who did his job without the extra flirting—but knowing Dean, he would probably find a way to have the waiter begging and panting in no time.

Even the people from Harry's _imagination _had more of a chance with Dean than he himself did, which was just depressing.

To busy himself, he looked down at the monstrous cheeseburger Dean had ordered for them along with an unhealthy amount of fries. Harry looked over at some vegetarian meal Sam had ordered which looked as if it was growing roots into the plate and sighed.

He just couldn't win no matter what he did.

"Can I get you anything else?" the waiter asked, giving Dean a come-hither look that Harry had come to expect from most of the female population Dean came in contact with.

Dean smiled back and moved to speak, probably to say something completely inappropriate and suggestive, but thankfully—as usual—Sam came to the rescue.

"No thanks, we're good," he stated, not giving the waitress a second glance as he looked over his food.

"Okay," the woman answered winking at Dean before walking away.

"You know, Sam, we are allowed to have fun once in a while," Dean sighed and pointed at the waitress walking back into the kitchen. "That's fun."

Harry snorted and rolled his eyes. "For you maybe," he muttered, but Dean and Sam heard him anyway.

"Oh come on," Dean said in disbelief. "You're telling me that if she came up to you right now and said 'wanna go back to my place?' you wouldn't jump at the chance to do her?" he asked, ignoring the glare he received from the old lady sitting not two feet away from them.

"No," Harry answered, smashing a fry for the hell of it. "I'm gay, remember?"

"Yeah, and I'm supposedly straight, but that doesn't mean I don't dabble every now and then." Dean wiggled his eyebrows, as if it was all just a big joke, and Harry had to swallow down the bitter words that rose to his throat.

"Dabble all you want then—I don't," Harry stated staring down at his mutilated fries so that he didn't have to look at Dean or Sam.

"So you're saying you've never been with a woman?" Dean asked in surprise.

"Of course I have," Harry answered with a shrug. "Once."

Dean lifted a curious brow, wondering how Harry could swear off women so easily. "So what happened?"

"Nothing," Harry answered, looking up at Dean with a serious expression. "That was the problem."

Dean stared at him, surprised. For a moment, Harry felt a brief satisfaction that he had managed to render Dean speechless, but then the hunter's demeanor broke. A smile appeared on Dean's face, and before long, he was laughing outright.

Harry blushed, looking back down murderously at his fries. Sam just rolled his eyes.

**o0o**

"Here, take a look at this, I think I got one," Dean said handing Sam the newspaper as they drove around the small town.

After being humiliated at the diner, Harry had picked at his food in silence and then disappeared into the Impala when Sam called for the check. Now they were back on the road and looking for something to kill—and Harry hoped they found a lot of whatever 'it' was. He was _really _in the mood to kill something.

Sam took the paper and circled in red ink was an obituary that had caught Dean's attention. "Shoemaker, Steven," Sam read. "The Shoemaker family is sad to announce the sudden death of their beloved husband and father, Steven Shoemaker. Steven was forty-six..." He trailed off, completive. "What do you think really happened to him?"

"I don't know, that's what we're gonna find out, but forty-six, sudden death—worth looking into…" Dean answered with a shrug as he stepped on the gas with a destination finally in mind.

"Or maybe it was just a heart attack," Harry piped up just for the sake of being difficult. Dean looked back at him through the rearview mirror, and Harry met his eyes without hesitation.

"If it was a heart attack," Dean began, "then the obituary would _say_ he died of a heart attack."

Harry shrugged and gazed out the window. "I wouldn't know. I don't _dabble _in that sort of thing."

Dean pursed his lips but refrained from commenting. Harry was acting a little childish—and when _Dean _thought something was childish, then it most likely was.

Sam sighed, but it was more defeated than annoyed, which let the other two occupants of the car know that something was up.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, turning to Sam with a raised eyebrow.

"The trail for Dad…" Sam tapered off, letting some of his frustration show through. "It's getting colder every day."

"Exactly," Dean replied. "So what are we supposed to do?" He was trying not to start a fight with his brother over this again. He didn't have any more answers than Sam did.

"I don't know," Sam stated, voice growing louder in irritation. "Something, _anything_." He pounded the dashboard in a show of silent anger, causing Harry to raise a brow. He knew this conversation had nothing to do with him, so he remained an impartial observer.

"You know what? I'm sick of this attitude," Dean snapped, annoyed that Sam had just hit his baby for no good reason. "You don't think I wanna find Dad as much as you do?"

"Yeah, I know you do, it's just…" Sam deflated a little. He hadn't meant to make Dean angry or upset. He was just discouraged that they weren't able to find their own father and every day the trail grew colder and colder.

"I'm the one that's been with him every single day for the past two years, while you've been off to college going to pep rallies," Dean continued. "We will find Dad, but until then, we're gonna kill everything bad between here and there. Okay?"

"That _needs _killing," Harry piped up.

Dean sighed but amended, "Kill everything that _needs _killing"

Sam rolled his eyes, a small smile twitching at the corner of his lips. He nodded. "Okay."

**o0o**

Before long, the Impala could be seen pulling up to a plain white building—a morgue. Harry's insides clenched the slightest bit, irrational thoughts buzzing at the back of his head at the thought of seeing a dead body.

He was studying to be a med student and he had seen death in a war, so he _knew _that by now he should be desensitized to death, but… the truth of the matter was, you could _never _become 'used' to it. Sure, you could distance yourself from it, but to not be affected at all? It was impossible.

"You wanna stay out in the car?" Sam asked, noting the nervous glances Harry was giving the building.

"No—no I'm fine," Harry answered, shaking his head.

Sam frowned. "Are you sure? Because Dean and I can just—"

"I said I'm fine!" Harry snapped, cutting him off. A wounded look crossed Sam's face and the wizard sighed in apology. "I'm sorry—I just… I've got to get over this, right? I mean, its part of the job."

"If you're sure then," Sam answered hesitantly. Dean watched narrow eyed from the driver's seat, but said nothing as Harry nodded his head before they all got out of the car.

They walked into the morgue with Harry trailing behind and were almost immediately stopped by a young man, probably only a year or two older than Sam, and rather good looking in Harry's opinion. He was a morgue technician from the looks of his outfit, most likely fresh out of school, or maybe even interning at the morgue.

"Hey…" he said in surprise at seeing them, taking in their casual outfits in a quick sweep. Normal civilians usually had no reason to visit a morgue of all places, so it was natural that he would be cautious. "Is there something I can help you guys with?"

"Yeah," Dean began, coming up with a lie on the spot as he always did. Sam and Harry remained quiet, letting him handle it. "We're uh… med students."

Harry couldn't help but raise a brow at that. He actually _was _a med student after all—or, well, he had been before the whole hunter thing.

"Sorry?" the guy asked, looking confused.

"Oh, uh," Dean glanced at the nameplate on a nearby desk and took a leap of faith, "Doctor Figlavitch didn't tell you?" Apparently luck was on Dean's side as the technician didn't call him out on his bluff. "We talked to him on the phone. We uh... We're from Ohio State. He's supposed to show us the Shoemaker corpse. It's for our paper."

"Well I'm sorry, he's at lunch," the morgue technician stated moving to walk past them, but Dean quickly went on.

"Oh, well he said uh—you know what, it doesn't matter. You don't mind showing us the body do you?" Dean asked, causing the guy to stop and look up from his clip board.

"Sorry, I can't… Doc will be back in an hour though, you can wait for him if you want." The guy gave a placid smile as he finally looked past Dean to eye Sam a moment before turning his attention toward Harry.

The wizard cocked his head to the side curiously as he studied the man and was studied in return. Harry's gaydar as they called it wasn't exactly screaming, but he was definitely getting a 'vibe' of sorts from the guy. Also, you would have to be _blind _to miss the way he was undressing Harry with his eyes.

Dean, of course, noticed as well and stepped in the man's line of sight. Harry frowned at Deans' back, having been enjoying someone taking notice of him for once.

"An hour?" Dean asked, his demeanor harsher than before. "We gotta be heading back to Columbus by then." He darted a glance at Sam, silently asking for backup.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, pulling out the puppy dog eyes and nodding earnestly. However, the man seemed to possess the willpower of a _god _as he was unaffected by the look entirely. Actual _puppies _were affected, and they invented it! "This paper's like half our grade," Sam pressed, "so if you don't mind helping us out—"

"Sorry guys but no," the technician stated firmly. Harry sighed quietly. He would have to do something, and soon, or they weren't going to be able to get in at all.

"I'm gonna hit him in his face I swear," Dean hissed as he turned around in frustration.

Harry shook his head as he moved past Dean, immediately gaining the full attention of the technician who Harry could see was definitely checking him out now. Sam, noticing this as well, placed a hand on Harry's arm to hold him back, but Harry shook it off. He wasn't a child nor was he in need of protection—he was a bloody _man _and he could flirt without shattering into shards of glass.

"'Lo," Harry greeted, a shy smile on his face. Behind him Dean rolled his eyes and looked away, not wishing to watch the spectacle before him. "Listen, um…"

"Talon," the man supplied as he stared down at Harry, eyes growing the slightest bit dark.

"Talon," Harry continued with a smile as he stepped a little closer until he was invading the man's personal space. The guy didn't back away; in fact, he let his clipboard drop by his side and leaned a little closer. Harry could feel the warmth seeping from the man's body and there was a slight rustling as their clothing brushed together. "You would be doing me and my friends a really big favor by showing us this body; perhaps… a favor I could return somehow…" he said, letting his eyes rake over the man's well toned body—or at least, he _hoped _it was. He couldn't exactly tell through what the guy wore.

'Talon' really was attractive, perhaps a collage athlete of some sort, with dark brown hair, deep brown eyes, and a handsome face. He was about Dean's height, which made him nearly an entire seven inches taller than Harry, and Harry was surprised to find that he really wasn't all that opposed to actually following through on his offer. After all, Dean had said just an hour ago that they needed to have more fun.

It wouldn't hurt if he were to… dabble.

"Follow me then," Talon said with a smirk and turned to lead them into the room.

Harry went to follow, but was surprised when Dean suddenly grabbed his arm and swung him around. "What are you doing?" he hissed.

Harry stared for a moment, a little taken aback. "Getting us inside," he answered simply.

"You're not really going to…" Dean trailed off, and Harry could have sworn he detected a hint of jealously there, but he pushed the thought aside. If he was going to get over this… whatever he had for Dean then he would have to start somewhere.

Harry pulled his arm out of Dean's grasp and glanced at Talon's retreating back. "You said we needed to have more fun," he answered and then pointed at Talon much like Dean had pointed at the waitress in the diner. "That is fun," he repeated with a smirk.

Dean could only watch, stunned, as Harry turned and followed after the technician. Sam, while just as surprised, laughed at his brother's face and hurried after the two, wanting to make sure Harry didn't do anything to get himself hurt.

After several moments of silent gaping, Dean finally managed to shake it off and follow behind everyone else. When he walked into the room, Talon had already pulled out the body and Harry was standing beside him.

He tried to convince himself that Harry was _just _doing it for the good of the hunt, but it was hard—almost as hard as… well… he wasn't sure he wanted to finish that thought.

"Now the newspaper said his daughter found him. She said his eyes were bleeding?" Sam asked, examining the man's eye sockets closely. It was a morbid sight, almost as if his eyes had literally melted from his head.

"They practically liquefied," Talon confirmed distractedly as Harry brushed their arms together.

"Any sign of a struggle? Maybe somebody did it to him?" Dean asked, although he wasn't looking at the body. His attention seemed to be more focused on Harry, but Harry tried not to let it affect him as he bent over the body and brushed his hip against Talon's thigh.

"Nope… besides the daughter, he was all alone…" Talon trailed off, and Harry could definitely feel fingers brushing against his lower back.

"What's the official cause of death?" Sam continued the questioning as Talon remained distracted by Harry.

"Doc's not sure… massive stroke, maybe an aneurysm? The guy had more blood in his skull than anyone I've ever seen," Talon answered, and Harry jumped a little when he felt a hand come to rest on his bum.

"The eyes… What would cause something like that?" Sam asked, becoming too engrossed in the body to see what was going on across from him.

"Capillaries can burst… see a lot of bloodshot eyes with stroke victims," Talon said. Harry gave a near silent gasp as Talon's hand reached around his front to give him a gentle squeeze. It had been a while since Harry had actually been with anyone and well—he was a young, healthy twenty-one year old male.

Dean's eyes narrowed and he barely refrained from releasing a growl. "Yeah? You ever see _exploding eyeballs_?" A hint of a threat entered his voice, and the man named Talon looked over the dead body to give Dean a small smirk.

His arm moved and Harry's eyes slid shut and he bit his lip. Dean could feel his blood boiling, mere seconds away from socking the technician in the face as it looked as if Talon would spread Harry over the dead body and fuck him right there.

The thought gave him pause. That had been… pretty morbid. Not untrue, however.

"That's a first for me, but hey, I'm not the doctor," Talon stated, continuing his groping of Harry, either immune to the dead body he continued to stare at as he talked or simply getting his cheap jollies by getting away with such behavior while not only on the job, but in front of strangers as well.

Harry released a quiet moan, his eyes squeezed shut. Dean's fists clenched so tightly he swore they would tear skin, but he didn't care. He was ready to punch something, and already he was beginning to imagine a target appearing right over Talon's smug little face.

Sam finally glanced up when Dean's growls began reaching audible levels, a frown on his face. He saw the look on Dean's face and followed the man's eyes, his own brown eyes growing large.

"H-Harry!" Sam choked out. The dark-haired man's eyes snapped open in surprise and he looked at Sam as if he had forgotten he was even in the room.

Talon coughed and took a meaningful step away from Harry, his hands held in front of himself to hide an obvious problem.

Harry gave a meek smile, having gotten a little _too _caught up in his role of seductress, although it had appeared as if it was _he _who was the one being seduced.

"Any… any other questions?" the technician asked, looking as if he had been doing something as innocent as blowing bubbles during the entire interview.

"No," Dean growled, a pressure building in his chest. "I think we should have all the information we'd need if we could just take a look at the police report. You know, for our paper."

"I'm not really supposed to show you that…" Talon began, but a pleading look from Harry had him instantly changing his tune. "But I think I could make an exception."

The silence was almost deafening when Talon disappeared for a moment before he returned with the police report. They were all prepared to leave when Talon quickly grabbed Harry by the wrist and pulled him back flush against his body. He slipped a piece of paper in Harry's hand and then kissed him passionately, leaving Harry surprised and breathless when he pulled away.

"This is my address and phone number. I get home around seven if you want to meet me there later tonight," Talon said with a smirk. Harry nodded, still a bit dazed from the intensity of the kiss as Sam grabbed him by the arm and pulled him away.

"Come on lover boy we have a, uh… paper to write," Sam stated with a roll of his eyes, but he was secretly relieved that at least Harry wasn't pining after Dean now. Although, it looked like Dean was the one doing the pining as they got into the car.

"Well," Harry piped up from the back seat, the Impala lurching as Dean pulled out of the parking lot, "that went well."

Dean's fingers clenched onto the steering wheel and he gritted his teeth together. "What the hell was that back there?"

Harry frowned, knowing exactly what Dean was referring to but choosing to play dumb. "What was what?"

"Don't play coy with me, Harry," Dean barked out, drawing startled looks from both occupants of the car. "What the hell did you think you were doing with that Talon freak?"

Recovering from his surprise at the sudden assault from Dean, a hostile frown darkened Harry's face. "Saving _your _ass."

Dean snorted. "Saving my ass. Right."

"You were dying out there Dean," Harry pointed out, shifting in his seat. "Talon was going to kick us out because _you _couldn't convince him to let us in. What was I doing? Helping _you _out; I thought you'd be thankful."

"Oh, well that makes everything better, doesn't it?" Dean said, laughing harshly. "So you were just… skanking it up for _my _sake!"

"Skanking it up?" Harry parroted, more hurt by that comment than he let on. "I wasn't… skanking it up, as you so eloquently put it! I was just using what I had available to get us inside. Would you have rathered I used magic to—"

"No!" Dean barked, causing Harry to pause and narrow his eyes. "No magic," he said, voice returning to a normal decibel.

For a moment, Harry didn't respond. "Don't worry," he sneered, voice hard. "I would never use my magic so irresponsibly, so you have nothing to worry about there… Instead, I used my normal _non-freakish _charms to get what we needed."

"Harry," Dean tried, but Harry just shook his head.

"No. If Talon had been a woman and you used _your _charms to get some information out of her, I'm sure you'd say you were 'just having a little fun!'"

Sam inclined his head, thinking Harry had a point, but remained silent. This was between Harry and Dean, and if he got involved it would probably only convolute matters further. Besides, he was a little miffed as well that Harry had taken his 'charming' so far.

"That's different," Dean defended after several beats of silence.

Harry sank back into his seat, a victorious curl to his lips. "Different how? Because you're flirting with a woman? Or _maybe _because you don't think I can take care of myself?"

Dean met Harry's gaze in the rearview mirror before once more focusing on the road. Even while having a fight, he prided himself as a good enough driver to at least not crash, even though he felt like just turning around in his seat and yelling his head off.

"That's where you're wrong—you _can't _take care of yourself, remember?"

For a long moment there was quiet and Dean dared to peek once more at the silent man. Harry's mouth was slightly open and the hurt shining in his eyes was enough to drive the fight out of Dean completely. He opened his own mouth to apologize, but Harry beat him to the punch.

"This is about that time in Colorado isn't it?" Harry asked, as if he couldn't believe Dean had the gall to bring it up. "Merlin, that was _one time_. One time! I learned my bloody lesson, Dean… I made a mistake, _yeah, _and I won't be doing it again."

"I know," Dean sighed, still upset over what had happened but no longer having the drive to push the issue any further. "It's just—never mind. Forget it."

Harry released a quiet sigh of his own and curled up in the back seat, his gaze focusing out the window. Sam sat still in his seat, exchanging looks between both his brother and Harry. A desire to just come out and call them _both _idiots was rising in his chest, but that wouldn't help anyone.

They wouldn't _learn _anything until they figured it out for themselves.

The drive to the motel was finished in silence and as soon as they stopped, Dean was out of the Impala and disappearing into the room before Sam could stop him.

Harry watched Dean go, his eyes the slightest bit dimmed.

"Harry—"

"I know, Sammy," Harry shrugged, a bland smile on his face. "I'm fine. It's just Dean being Dean. By now I'm used to it."

Sam and Harry walked into the motel room and both could hear the sound of the shower. Sam silently began shuffling through the day's newspaper while Harry moved over to his bag to get out some fresh clothes.

"You aren't really going are you?" Sam questioned, looking up in surprise. He hadn't actually thought that Harry had been serious about following through with his bribe.

Harry shrugged and pulled off his old shirt before throwing on the new one. "Why not?"

"Well I—" Sam began, but really he couldn't come up with anything to say. Dean did it all the time and he never batted an eyelash, so what right did he have to protest Harry doing it—as much as Sam knew it wasn't like Harry to do something like this… sober at least.

"I have my phone in case something comes up, and if not then I'll be back first thing in the morning," Harry said, turning his back and changing pants.

"But Harry, are you sure? You—"

"You can't expect me to just wait around forever for the right guy to pop up Sam, and this life… I mean, you understand probably better than most, I'll probably never find someone who'll stick around very long," Harry stated, and despite wanting to protest Sam did know the truth in that.

Harry had done a lot of thinking while on the road with Sam and Dean the last month or so, and he'd come to terms with the loneliness that came with the life he'd chosen as a hunter. Harry guessed that Dean had come to terms with it a long time ago as well, and now so could he. The only way he'd be able to have a relationship would be with another hunter—who happened to like guys as well. Harry had yet to meet any other hunters besides Sam and Dean, and well… Dean was out of the question it seemed.

"Yeah, but Harry—when this kind of thing happened before, you—you never took it well," Sam said worriedly, remembering Harry's depression at waking up alone.

"But this time it's different Sammy," Harry answered looking up at him. "I'll be the one leaving them in the morning," he finished.

"There'll still be broken hearts," Sam called, causing Harry to pause with his hand on the doorknob. "The only difference is that it won't be your heart that's broken."

Harry threw a dry smile over his shoulder. "Better the hunter than the hunted, yeah?" With that parting remark, Harry disappeared out of the door just as Dean emerged from his shower with a towel wrapped around his waist.

"So he went, huh?" Dean asked, his gaze on the door Harry had disappeared out of.

Sam just sighed and stared down at the floor, Harry's words bouncing through his head.


	10. Bloody Mary pt2

**A/N: **Haha... oh wow, I don't think there's much I can say about the snail pace at which I write these days. I feel like I've gotten author senility, and its just getting harder and harder for me to do things.

Bah. Oh well. I guess there's not a whole lot I can do about that, but yeah, new chapter! Yay! This is a personal favorite of mine, so I hope everyone else enjoys as well.

It's also unbeta'd, so any typos, grammar mistakes, etc., are my own.

* * *

**Bloody Mary - Part Two**

Sam slammed the door as he came back into the motel room carrying coffee and donuts. "Mornin sunshine," he called as Dean groaned and buried his face in his pillow.

"What time is it?" Dean grunted sleepily.

"It's about 5:45," Sam answered, setting the coffee and donuts on the small table beside the TV.

"In the morning?" Dean asked as he sat up and rubbed a hand over his face.

"Yep," Sam answered cheerfully. He'd already drank two cups of coffee himself and was feeling rather giddy.

Dean paused in his stretching and glanced at his brother with a critical eye. "Did you get any sleep last night?"

"Yeah, I grabbed a couple hours," Sam answered.

"Liar," Dean stated almost instantly and Sam cursed under his breath. "'Cause I was up at three, and you were watchin the George Foreman infomercial."

"Hey, what can I say? It's riveting TV," Sam replied with a shrug as he turned to get Dean a coffee.

"When was the last time you got a good night's sleep?" Dean asked standing from the bed and taking the hot cup he was offered.

"I don't know. A little while, I guess. It's not a big deal," Sam tried, but he should have known that Dean wouldn't buy it. He'd never been able to lie to his brother.

"Yeah, it is," Dean replied with a serious expression.

"Look, I appreciate your concern—"

"Oh, I'm not concerned about you," Dean cut in, never one for a touchy-feely moment. "It's your job to keep my ass alive, so I need you sharp." Sam simply shrugged, and Dean frowned. "Seriously, are you still havin nightmares about Jess?"

"Yeah," Sam answered with a sigh as he sat down on the bed across from Dean—the bed that hadn't been slept in the night before. "But it's not just her. It's everything. I just forgot, you know? This job man, it gets to you."

"Well, you can't let it. You can't bring it home like that," Dean replied, blowing on his coffee before cautiously taking a sip.

"So, what? All this… it never keeps you up at night?" Sam asked watching his brother closely. He'd never seen Dean have a nightmare, but that didn't mean he never had them. Dean shook his head though. "Never?" Sam pressed in disbelief. "You're never afraid?"

"No, not really," Dean denied.

Sam reached under Dean's pillow to pull out the knife he'd seen his brother hide there the night before. He raised a single brow in challenge and Dean reached forward to snatch the weapon from him.

"That's not fear," Dean said, hiding the weapon away on his person. "That is precaution."

"All right, whatever," Sam snorted. "I'm too tired to argue." Then something Dean had said before hit him and he looked at his brother once again. "What were you doing awake at three in the morning?"

Dean froze for a second as he went to reach for a donut, but then he grabbed one and nearly shoved the entire thing in his mouth. "I was just checking on you Sammy," Dean lied, and Sam knew it.

"Why would you need to check on me? I was here the whole time," Sam asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. Then suddenly they widened as realization hit him and he saw the folded up piece of paper sitting on Dean's nightstand. "Dean you weren't!" he exclaimed standing up from the bed and looking at his brother in disbelief.

Dean caught onto Sam's train of thought quickly—almost too quickly for him not to have been thinking about it already, and immediately went on the defense. "I was just going to go see if he needed a ride back or something," Dean protested, but Sam knew better.

"At three in the morning!" Sam exclaimed. "And since when have you ever come to pick me up before I called you?" he questioned and Dean's mouth snapped shut. Sam sighed in frustration and he threw his hands in the air as he turned from his brother.

"Sam I just—"

"Dean you promised me!" Sam cut in swinging back around to face him. "You promised me you wouldn't do this!"

"Sam I'm trying—I'm trying, but I… I like him," Dean finally admitted to himself as well as someone else.

Sam paused, anger fading as he stared at his brother in shock. "You mean you actually like, like him?" he questioned still not believing what he'd heard—or thought he'd heard come from Dean's mouth.

Dean shrugged, before turning to put on a shirt so that he wouldn't have to look at Sam. "I mean he's hot—" he answered, and Sam's angry frown returned, but Dean continued before he could say anything. "I mean, I'm not exactly shy or subtle about going after someone like him. I hook up with someone new all the time—you know that Sammy. That's the reason you want to protect him from me, right? But I've never actually spent more than one night with someone I was attracted to, and Harry—well he's around, all the time, and I guess… yeah, I like him. He's an interesting guy," Dean finished with a self conscious shrug.

"Wow," Sam replied, staring wide eyed at Dean's back. "I guess I never thought that you would actually—"

Dean shrugged and walked over to his duffle bag full of weapons. "It's not that big of a deal."

"Yes, yes it is," Sam replied walking over to Dean. "Dean it's not that I don't want you and Harry to be together. In fact, I think it would be amazing if you guys could, but Dean… Harry's my best friend—my _only_ friend now, and I… I don't want to risk that."

"Well you don't have to worry Sammy because I'm not going to mess this up for you," Dean reassured, but it only made Sam feel worse.

"Dean I—"

"No you're right," Dean cut in, holding up a hand to stall whatever it was Sam was going to say to make the reality seem less harsh. "You're right Sammy. You're right, okay? I would screw it up. Somewhere down the line I would hurt him. You know I would; I know I would… So it's better that nothing ever happen."

Sam sighed heavily, but wasn't able to say anything as the door to their room quietly crept open. The brothers were on high alert in an instant, but relaxed again once they saw that it was only Harry trying to quietly sneak in. He looked startled once he turned from closing the door and saw them standing there fully dressed with a knife and gun in their hands.

"Did something happen?" Harry asked instantly.

"No, uh, we were just getting things ready," Sam answered taking in Harry's wrinkled shirt that was buttoned all wrong, his more serious than normal case of bed head and the bite mark on his neck.

"Oh, are we about to leave then?" Harry sat his jacket on the nearest bed and began to unbutton his shirt. When the piece of clothing came off, Sam stared open mouthed at the numerous fingernail markings and red scratches that littered his back and even disappeared below the waistband of his pants.

"…We have a few minutes," Sam answered at last, all too aware of his brother's silence beside him.

It looked as if Harry had actually followed through with it. There had been a part of Sam, and Sam guessed a part of Dean too, that even after Harry had walked out the door hadn't thought that Harry would actually sleep with the guy, but apparently they had been wrong. It didn't appear as if Harry was ashamed of it either, which nagged at Sam's mind.

"Good, then I'm going to grab a shower real quick—cleaning charms just make me itchy," Harry stated, throwing his shirt to the side and toeing off his shoes as he walked past them and disappeared into the bathroom.

There was a long silence that followed the clicking of the bathroom door before Dean finally moved again. He finished gathering his things and walked out of the motel room before Sam could think of anything to say.

**o0o**

As usual, the Impala sailed over the road with nary a sound, but for once, Sam wished it would. Since the car ride had begun not even five minutes ago, neither Dean nor Harry had uttered one word to the other.

Dean had asked for directions from Sam, but that had been it. After that, only silence. Tense, _suffocating_, silence.

Sam sighed, the tension of the car becoming too much for him. "This might not be one of ours," he said, hoping to stir up a conversation of some sort. "It might just be some freak medical thing,"

"I said that," Harry muttered from his usual position in the backseat. Dean ignored him.

"How many times in Dad's long and varied career has it actually been a freak medical thing and not some sign of an awful supernatural death?" Dean questioned, the Shoemaker's residence coming into view at last.

"Uh, almost never," Sam replied trying to think as far back as he could remember.

"Exactly," Dean stated, already getting out of the car.

"All right then, let's go talk to the daughter," Sam sighed as Harry stuck close behind him. Normally, the wizard would have stuck close to Dean, but even he couldn't ignore the stiffness in the man's shoulders and the almost hostile heaviness of his steps. Sam understood now that Dean was just jealous, but he hoped that his brother could get over it soon.

They walked right into the house during the wake for Mr. Shoemaker, and immediately Harry's eyes went to the picture of the man sitting on a desk placed in the foyer.

"Feel like we're underdressed," Dean murmured and Harry looked up to see all the men and women standing around in their black suits and dresses.

His own t-shirt and jeans made him look homeless next to all the mourners, but Harry was used to sticking out like a sore thumb and did not so much as bat an eye.

They continue walking through the house and came out of the kitchen door into the backyard where it seemed most of the younger people had congregated. Rather than walking around aimlessly Harry stopped a guy who pointed him to where the two daughters were.

"You must be Donna right?" Dean asked the girl who was sitting with her two friends. She looked about Harry's age, and she was a pretty girl, but not one Dean would be tripping over himself to flirt with.

"Yeah," she answered, looking up at them.

"Hi uh, we're really sorry," Sam said, giving the generic condolences. Harry just smiled, knowing that more empty words were the last thing the girls wanted to hear.

"Thank you," Donna answered politely.

"I'm Sam, this is Dean, and this is Harry," Sam introduced. Donna gave them each a small smile and nod as she was introduced, but there was a longsuffering quality to it that was hard to ignore. It was obvious she was growing weary of well-wishers. "We worked with your dad," Sam continued, coming up with their story.

Donna's curiosity seemed to be piqued the slightest bit and she sat up a little straighter in her seat. "You did?"

"Yeah, this whole thing… I mean, a stroke," Dean added with a shake of his head, as if he couldn't believe it.

"I don't think she really wants to talk about this right now," one of Donna's friends piped in, placing a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder. The three hunters exchanged glances, worried they were going to be shut down before they could find out any information.

"It's okay—I'm okay," Donna protested, but Harry could see that she wasn't. But they _needed _the information she had if they were going to stop whatever killed her father—assuming it was supernatural at all.

"How was he before?" Harry asked, getting straight to the questions they needed answered. "Did he show any signs of dizziness? Headaches or pain? That sort of thing?" He'd been going to Stanford as a medical student, but he had no clue what could cause the results of what had happened to her father.

She frowned and shook her head. "You'd know better than me."

Harry paused, his brow dipping. "I would?"

"You said you worked with him, right?" Donna asked. Unsure, Harry shared a look with Sam and Dean before turning back to the girl and nodding his head. With a sigh, she folded her hands in her lap and stared downward, the air of unhappiness surrounding her seeming to double. "When he wasn't working, all he'd do was lock himself in his bedroom and stare at pictures of Mom…"

"Oh… Oh!" Again, the young wizard looked over his shoulder, and the two elder hunters seemed to have reached the same conclusion he did. Apparently, Mrs. Shoemaker was deceased, and distraught with grief, the husband only left his room to work.

"I'd bring him dinner every night, but," Donna shrugged, "he seemed… fine."

"That's because it wasn't a stroke." The simple declaration had come from a little girl sitting next to Donna who had been hiding behind her chestnut hair when they approached, and Harry had assumed that she was just shy.

Now though, she was staring up at them with a certainty that was surprising in a child so young.

"Lily, don't say that," Donna hushed, reaching out a hand to comfort the child. The girl dodged the hand and stood. She gave a firm shake of her head, those wild locks swooshing through the air. When she once more looked up, her blue eyes were swimming in unshed tears.

"What happened?" Harry asked as he knelt in front of the little girl. Maybe it was because she shared his mother's name, or maybe it was the guilt he could see in her big blue eyes, but Harry felt instantly drawn to her.

"I'm sorry, this is my sister, Lily. Don't mind her, she's just upset." Donna once more tried to comfort her sister, but again the little girl stepped away and shook her head.

"No, it happened because of me," Lily admitted, her small voice containing none of the usual stubbornness of a child who chose to believe only what they wished to believe.

"Sweetie, it didn't," Donna said, wringing her hands in grief.

Harry reached forward to wipe away the tear's gathering in Lily's eyes and she let him, new tears already gathering in her eyes.

"Why would you say something like that?" Harry questioned, his voice soothing.

"Right before he died," Lily whispered, causing everyone to lean forward and strain their ears to hear her, "I said it."

Harry looked over his shoulder at Sam and Dean, but they appeared just as confused as he felt. He turned back to the girl and asked, "You said what?"

"I said Bloody Mary three times in the bathroom mirror. She took his eyes… That's what she does," Lily explained gazing at Harry with wide frightened eyes.

"That's not why Dad died. This isn't your fault," Donna assured. This time, when she reached out to teach her sister, the girl let her, and Donna pulled the child into her arms.

"I think your sister's right, Lily," Harry agreed, although he felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. "There's no way it could have been Bloody Mary. Your dad didn't say it, did he?"

"No, I don't think so," Lily said, and Harry felt better as he saw a little less guilt reflected in those blue eyes.

"Then see, Bloody Mary's just a silly story. Your daddy was just hurt and sometimes when people are hurt their bodies aren't able to heal so they go somewhere they can be healed."

"You mean Heaven?" Lily questioned looking up at Harry earnestly. "Cause that's where Aunt Jackie said mommy went when she died. She said that she's an angel now. Do you think my dad's an angel too?"

"Yes," Harry agreed with a soft smile. "And now your mommy and daddy are together again, and I bet they're so happy and watching over you right now. So don't blame yourself for something you had no control over. It wasn't your fault. Your daddy is happy where he is now," he finished with a firm shake of his head. "Trust me."

Lily mimicked Harry's sure nod, hope now replacing the guilt he had seen darkening her eyes.

Donna gave a tender smile as Lily rushed off to be with another group of children her age. "Thank you," she whispered, her eyes glistening.

Harry just smiled and stood to his feet.

"How did you do that?" Sam asked as they walked away.

"Do what?" Harry replied, looking at his friend in confusion.

"Get that girl to trust you so easily. You could have told her the grass was blue and she would have believed you," Sam explained.

"I don't know," Harry answered with a shrug as he looked anywhere but at Sam and Dean. "I just… I know what it's like to blame yourself."

"For what?" Sam asked with a heavy frown.

"For everything," Harry breathed as he walked past them and back into the house.

**o0o**

"The Bloody Mary legend—Dad ever find any evidence that it was a real thing?" Sam asked as they got back to the Impala.

"Not that I know of," Dean answered, cranking the engine and pulling out of the driveway.

"I mean, everywhere else, all over the country kids play Bloody Mary, and as far as we know, no one dies from it," Sam reasoned, trying to think of some other explanation for what was going on. Could it really just be a coincidence that the little girl had said Bloody Mary three times and that same night her father died?

"Yeah, well maybe everywhere it's just a story but here it's actually happening," Dean said as Harry chanced a glance at the older brother.

Dean seemed to be ignoring him again, and Harry was having trouble understanding why Dean was so angry at him all of the sudden. He'd thought that this was what Dean had wanted—for Harry to 'have fun' and 'dabble.' Dean was certainly doing his fair share of it.

Dean had always been a bit standoffish toward him though. Harry had noticed that he was never fully comfortable in his presence, and he'd thought that it was because of the whole crush thing, but now he was beginning to doubt that.

"Maybe this is the place where the legend began?" Sam asked. Dean shrugged, not having any answers either. "But according to the legend, the person who says…" Sam glanced at the review mirror and paused. "The person who says you-know-what gets it, but here…"

"Shoemaker gets it instead, yeah," Dean finished with a thoughtful frown. "Never heard anything like that before. Still, the guy did die right in front of the mirror, and the daughter's right. The way the legend goes, you-know-who scratches your eyes out."

Harry groaned. "I know saying her name can _literally _kill you, but does it have to be You-Know-Who?"

Sam raised an eyebrow and Dean glanced at him in the rearview mirror for a split-second before looking away.

"Okay," Sam drawled. "According to the legend, _Girl-With-Killer-Name_ scratches your eyes out." The tall hunter gave Harry a pointed look. "Better?"

"Not really," Harry shrugged. Sam just sighed.

"Do you guys have anything like this in the Wizarding World?" Sam asked, frowning when it took Harry a second to tear his eyes away from the back of Dean's head. There had been a thick tension between the two of them since Harry had arrived back in the morning, and the two were still dancing around each other like high school kids.

After registering what Sam asked, Harry nodded. "Yeah, loads of them."

Sam turned fully in his seat, shock written all over his face. "Really?"

"Yes," Harry began slowly, brow raised. "There's Boy-Who-Lived, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Golden-Boy-Potter and _my _personal favorite—"

"What? No! Harry, no! I meant anything about—" Sam glanced at the side door mirror before huffing. "—about _Bloody Mary_."

"What?" Harry blinked. "Oh! You meant Bloody Mary, of course! No… No." He coughed, his cheeks a little red. It didn't help that Dean was trying his best to contain his laughter, but the shaking of his shoulders was a dead giveaway. Even Sam was smiling now, and Harry sat up straighter in his seat, putting on a serious face to make up for his embarrassing mistake.

"They wrote it off as a Muggle legend," he answered, remembering the book on Muggle folklore Hermione had brought back from the library for a bit of "light reading." Harry had flipped through it one sleepless night, and now he was glad he had as Bloody Mary had been the first legend he'd come across.

"There are a _lot _of Mary's in Britain," Harry shrugged. "As far as I know, none of them ever went on a murdering rampage."

With no information available, they ended up at a public library, Dean's least favorite place to be. It used to be Harry's as well, but over the years, he had learned to love the information and solidarity books provided.

"Say Bloody Mary really is haunting this town. There's gonna be some sort of proof. Like a local woman who died nasty," Dean said as he and Harry searched through books and old newspapers and Sam surfed the web.

"Yeah but a legend this widespread—it's hard. I mean, there's like fifty versions of who she actually is. One story says she's a witch, another says she's a mutilated bride… there's a lot more," Sam answered growing frustrated and closing his laptop with a snap.

"Well we can mark off witch at least; if they believe it to be a human legend then she couldn't have been one of them," Dean said discarding another book.

Harry's head suddenly snapped up. "Sorry?" he questioned glaring at Dean and the tension between them spiked, seeming to become a tangible entity floating through the air around them.

Dean cleared his throat and shifted in his seat as that green gaze burned into him. "I said that if the wizards believe it to be a human legend then—" he began, but he was cut off as Harry slammed the book he had been holding down on the table with a resounding smack.

"I think I understand now," Harry said, confusing both Dean and Sam. Then, he stood to his feet and walked off without another word, the heavy sound of the entrance doors closing loud in the silence of the empty library.

"What's his problem?" Dean growled, annoyance taking over now that his surprise had fled him.

"Well maybe if you would talk to him or even look at him and stop acting like he did something to deserve your anger then it might help," Sam suggested looking back down at his own book. He would give Harry a few moments to calm down before going after him to see what had finally set his friend off.

"All right, so what are we supposed to be looking for?" Dean asked, avoiding the subject completely as he shifted forward and grabbed another book.

Sam sighed but decided to leave it alone for now and get back to figuring out what was going on. "Every version's got a few things in common. It's always a woman named Mary, and she always dies right in front of a mirror. So we've gotta search local newspapers and public records as far back as they go. See if we can find a Mary who fits the bill."

"Well that sounds annoying," Dean sighed, but set his book aside and grabbed the first box of newspapers.

**o0o**

After a while Sam and Dean separated, deciding to divide and conquer. Sam started at one end of the library and Dean at the other—even going so far as to look through the teen horror novels to see if they could come up with anything.

"Did you find anything?" Sam asked as they met up in the middle.

"Besides a whole new level of frustration?" Dean groused. "No, I've looked at everything. A few local women, a Laura and a Catherine committed suicide in front of a mirror, and a giant mirror fell on a guy named Dave, but no Mary."

"Maybe we just haven't found it yet," Sam sighed, his forehead wrinkled in displeasure.

"I've also been searching for other strange deaths in the area, you know... eyeball bleeding, that sort of thing. There's nothing. Whatever's happening here, maybe it just ain't Mary," Dean suggested with a shrug. "Maybe we're totally off this time."

Sam ran a hand over his face, another sigh escaping him. "That means back to the beginning… but first let's go back to the motel for a while. I could use a nap and something to eat."

Dean nodded in agreement, knowing that Sam hadn't slept at all the night before. Besides, he felt that if he had to read the small print of one more book his own eyes might melt in his head—and not because of Bloody Mary. However, when they walked outside and looked around, all thoughts of resting fled.

Harry was nowhere to be seen, and they checked the area twice before heading toward the Impala in defeat.

"I should have followed him out," Sam said, looking around as if Harry would pop out of hiding with a "gotcha." He'd been so caught up in the research they were doing that he'd completely forgotten that Harry had stormed out on them, angry at Dean for something.

"Maybe he went back to the motel," Dean suggested, trying to ease Sam's worry as well as his own. It wasn't good for Harry to be wondering off alone when they didn't know what was happening yet.

When they got back to the motel and opened the door both brothers stopped in their tracks. "What the hell!" Dean exclaimed as he pulled out his gun, but Sam quickly put a hand on his arm and pushed it down. "Sammy what—" Dean began, but cut himself off as he followed Sam's gaze to see what his brother was staring at.

"Harry?" Sam questioned taking a step forward, but Dean put out his arm to stop him.

Everything in the room was floating feet into the air, as if someone had turned off the gravity in their motel room, and sitting amongst it all was Harry perched on one of the beds as it swayed above the floor, mere inches off the ground. Harry had his knees pulled up to his chest with his arms wrapped around them and his face buried in his arms. The power rolling off of him was like static electricity charging the air and it made the hairs on the brother's arms and neck stand on end.

"Harry?" Sam asked again, trying to get his friends attention to see what was going on—if it was indeed Harry doing this. They'd seen him do bits of magic before, but those were mere parlor tricks compared to this level of power that they could literally feel in the air.

Harry lifted his head to look over at them with glazed eyes before simply dropping his head back into his arms. Dean's grip tightened on his gun. Was Harry possessed? Was someone controlling him? What the hell was going on?

"Just stay back for a moment," Harry whispered without looking up. "I'll have it under control in a moment."

Sam and Dean stood back and restlessly waited, and after a moment things began slowly drifting back down to where they were supposed to be and the electricity in the air faded to the low hum they were familiar with when around Harry. The moment everything was back to normal Sam pushed past Dean and was by Harry's side checking him over.

"Are you okay? Did something happen? What was that?" Sam asked in rapid succession as Harry stood from the bed.

"I—I lost control," Harry admitted without looking at either of them as he walked over to his bag and began throwing his stuff inside.

"Wait, what do you mean? What are you doing?" Sam questioned as he walked over to Harry and grabbed his arm to stop him from packing up his things. They hadn't solved the case yet; there was no need for Harry to get everything ready.

"I'm leaving," Harry stated as he pulled himself from Sam's grip, the tall hunter too stunned to stop him. "I… I think it's for the best that I go." His things packed, Harry slung the bag over his shoulder and headed toward the door. Dean blocked his path.

"Not until you explain what just happened," Dean stated, in full hunter mindset as he held his gun loosely by his side.

Sam managed to snap himself from his stupor, trying but failing to wrap his mind around the situation. "Why are you leaving? Where are you going to go? Harry, you don't—"

"I've been suppressing the majority of my magic around you guys because I know that you aren't exactly comfortable with it," Harry finally admitted, looking at the floor rather than at Dean who was standing like a wall between him and the door. "It's like a—like a dam. The pressure just builds and builds and if you don't release some of it every now and then it'll eventually break. I'm more powerful than the average wizard and I haven't been using my magic as much as I should be. I was going to go release some of it soon, but I let my emotions get the best of me today and I just lost control for a moment."

When Harry had been at Stanford it hadn't been so difficult to escape for a while when it became too much and do some heavy magic exercises, but being around the brothers all the time, nearly twenty four hours a day, he hadn't been able to use his magic as often as he should have. Sam was okay with it, even awed by it, but it hadn't escaped Harry's notice how opposed to magic Dean was—even just his display of making things float had Dean wanting to kill him.

Sam's face dawned in understanding. "Harry that's no reason to leave," he protested, moving around so that he could stand in front of Harry too.

"It could have been much worse," Harry said with a heavy frown.

"But it wasn't; you were able to stop it, and no one was hurt. You'll just need to use magic more often than you do, right? That'll keep it from happening again?" Sam asked, a smile on his face that said everything was going to be okay—or at least, he desperately hoped so. He didn't want Harry to leave. He couldn't lose someone else right now.

Harry looked up at Sam and then let his eyes slide over to Dean. "It makes you uncomfortable, and I don't want to cause anymore tension between the two of you so I think—I think it's best if I just go."

"Harry, where are you gonna go?" Sam asked with a frown as the smaller man pushed past him. He expected, even hoped, for Dean to Harry from leaving, but the elder brother just continued to stare at the wizard with an unreadable look.

Harry just shrugged as he reached the door and opened it, sunlight from the outside world pouring in. "I don't know—maybe back to Britain… but I'll call you when I get there." He looked at Sam over his shoulder with a brave smile, willing the man to understand that he would be alright. He moved to take that final step, to cross over the threshold separating him from the Winchesters and the hunter world in general, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him in his tracks.

Sam had no intention of letting his best friend go, at least not that easily, and he grabbed Harry by the shoulder and spun him around, giving Harry no chance to retaliate while he slammed the door closed and locked it.

For a moment Harry didn't move, too dazed from being manhandled to react. Then, the wizard took one look at his friend, saw the stubborn set of his jaw and the pleading quality in his eyes and felt his resolve weaken the slightest bit. However, when he chanced a glance at Dean and saw the hunter still watching him with a wary gaze, the tension returned and a glare stole over his face.

"Sam, what—"

"You're not just leaving," Sam stated, his frown keeping Harry from protesting. "We're gonna to talk about this, and you're gonna explain to me what the hell happened to set you off, alright?" The look on the man's face said he would not let Harry leave, willing or otherwise, until they had talked this through and found out exactly what the young man's problem was.

Harry gazed hard at Sam, but knew that his friend wouldn't let him leave so easily. Sighing, he let his bag drop to the floor with a thump and rolled his shoulders, trying to appear more nonchalant than he really was.

Inside, Harry was on edge, his nerves still humming from the magic he had just released and the glare he could feel burning into his face from Dean. The tension between him and Dean whether, sexual, anger, or just plain frustration wasn't healthy for Sam and Dean's relationship when Sam had to keep stepping in between them—and Harry was starting to think it wasn't healthy for him as well.

Harry didn't want to come between the brothers, and he didn't want to force Dean to tolerate him when it was obvious Dean thought of him as less than human. In fact, if it weren't for Sam, Harry wasn't so sure that Dean wouldn't have already hunted him down by now. The comment Dean had made in the library had only confirmed what Harry had suspected for some time, and he was through with being treated like a freak.

"Now explain to me what made you angry in the library. You were obviously furious when you stormed out. Is that what made you lose control?" Sam questioned, despite his brother's presence and knowing that it had been something about Dean that had set Harry off. He led Harry over to a bed and then forced him to sit down.

Harry stared at the floor for a long moment before looking up at Sam. "When you look at me… what do you see?" he asked, causing Sam's brow to wrinkle in confusion.

"What does that have to—"

"Just answer me Sam," Harry said, his voice firm.

Sam frowned but answered, "Well, I see Harry, my best friend—my only friend. The only other person besides my Dad or Dean who knows me best. I see someone I can trust with everything—with my life. I see an amazing person who's been through a lot of shit he didn't deserve, who doesn't deserve to be alone…" Sam trailed off, at a loss, not because he had run out of things to say, but the exact opposite. There was so much _to _say, but what he had though must've been enough because Harry's smile was radiant as he looked at him. It faded all too soon when he looked up to Dean.

"And you Dean—what do you see?" Harry questioned guardedly.

"Oh no," Dean protested, holding his hands up in front of himself. "You are not dragging me into this chick flick moment. You guys can run off into the sunset, holding hands, and singing kumbaya if you want, but I'm going to grab a beer and clean my guns."

As Dean went to walk away though Sam grabbed his arm and the look he gave his brother told him that if he didn't fix this he'd be sorry he ever woke up that morning.

"Really?" Dean hissed at his brother, and Sam merely titled his head in Harry's direction telling Dean to get on with it.

Dean turned to Harry with a frustrated sigh. "Are you really this gay, man?" he snapped before he could stop himself.

Harry turned his head to the side and stared hard at the blankets. "You know what? Never mind. I already know the answer anyway," he bit out before standing.

Dean put a firm hand on his shoulder and stopped him. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he asked defensively.

Harry shrugged out of Dean's hold, his face blank. "You said all I needed to hear in the library; you said it loud and clear," he answered, not looking at either of them.

"What? What'd I say?" Dean asked, looking to Sam in confusion.

Sam was deep in thought, going over every moment he could remember before Harry had stormed off. He'd been so wrapped up in his research that he hadn't been fully paying attention to the conversation at the time, but going back over it… He gave a quiet sigh.

What it looked like Dean had insinuated stood out clear as day. No wonder Harry had been so pissed at the time, and no wonder he was so hurt now.

"Harry, he didn't mean it how it sounded," Sam tried, but Harry shook his head.

"How what sounded?" Dean asked, still confused.

"Sounded pretty clear to me Sammy," Harry answered, rolling his shoulders.

"What sounded clear?" Dean questioned, growing more and more frustrated as he tried to catch on to what they were talking about. What had did he say?

Dean gave a quiet grunt as his feet were ripped out from under him and he found himself lying on top of the bed, an invisible force pinning him. Sam called his brother's name in shock and pulled out his own gun, but hesitated when he saw Dean's duffle bag levitate off the floor and he realized who was causing all of this.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Sam asked, taking a cautious step forward, but whatever was pinning Dean was blocking him, preventing him from moving forward. "Harry…" he trailed off as Dean's duffle unzipped itself and his guns and other weapons began floating out.

Harry's eyes were glowing green as he stared down at Dean with a frown, and Sam didn't know what to do as he fingered his own gun. Was Harry possessed? Was he being controlled by some other force? Would he hurt Dean?

"So what would you use first?" Harry asked, spreading Dean's weapons out to circle above him, but Dean was unable to answer as his lips had been sealed shut. "The holy water maybe?" Harry continued as said bottle of liquid uncapped itself with a pop and then splashed onto him. Sam relaxed as he realized what was happening.

The holy water, of course, did nothing but get Harry wet, and he moved on. "But no, I'm not possessed… what then?" he asked, but didn't need an answer as next a bag of salt circled around Harry, creating a barrier—or at least, it would have if he were a demon. With no trouble at all, Harry stepped over the closed circle and crawled onto the bed, the mattress creaking at the added weight.

"What else Dean?" Harry continued, crawling up Dean's body as a rifle floated behind Harry and cocked itself. It pointed straight at Harry's heart. "How about this rifle? If it were loaded with bullets, that'd no doubt kill me, but how about rock salt? I'm pretty solid don't you think?" He straddled Dean's hip and stared down at the helpless man. "Rock salt would hurt like a bitch, but I'm not a spirit." Harry let Dean's riffle, loaded with rock salt rounds, fall to the ground carelessly then brought his bare forearm up to Dean's face. A silver knife floated free from Dean's things and positioned itself above his unguarded skin.

"Harry, stop," Sam protested once again as he saw Dean's eyes widen and his brother began trying to struggle—but it was no use. Harry's magic had Dean pinned and the ward he had erected around them couldn't be disturbed by Sam.

Harry ignored his friend's pleas and released a quiet gasp as the knife bit down into his skin. A thin trail of blood oozed from the wound and began to trickle down his arm. "What do you need Dean? You need me to carve a sigil into my skin? You need something permanent? What do you want? Anti-magic, anti-possession… which one Dean? There are so many to choose from."

"Harry stop!" Sam exclaimed as the knife continued its slow ascent across Harry's skin. Red rivulets of blood escaped the wound down Harry's arm to fall onto Dean's face. The hunter blinked frantically as the blood fell on him like rain and his struggling doubled when drops touched his lips.

He could taste it—taste the saltiness of it; he could smell its metical quality. It was blood, the same blood that all humans had coursing through their veins.

Harry had proven his point. Dean got it now. Harry finally seemed to see that too because he threw the knife away and sealed his bleeding wound with a muttered spell. Then, he pinned Dean's arms by his head, lacing their fingers together as he brought his face mere inches away from Dean's own. Sam felt the urge to look away, the moment seeming strangely intimate.

"I bleed just like you. I breathe just like you. My heart beats just like yours. I feel just like you, the same pain, the same anger, the same guilt, the same loneliness, the same longing…" Harry trailed off, bending down to let his lips brush over Dean's own and Sam did look away, a pang of something lancing his chest. "I'm just as human as you are," Harry whispered still loud enough for Sam to hear him as Harry's eyes raked over Dean's face one last time before he pulled away.

Harry stood to his feet, left his bag on the motel floor, but summoned something out of it with a wave of his hand. The object sailed across the room and Harry caught it deftly before walking out of the hotel door without so much as a backwards glance, ignoring Sam's call of his name. It wasn't until five minutes later that Sam and Dean were able to move again and nearly an hour before Dean could speak, but his silence wasn't from any spell Harry had cast on him.

**o0o**

The sun was beginning its descent into the horizon, but still the citizens of the sleepy town were out and about, greeting each other with polite hellos and warm smiles.

Harry watched them interact from under a shadowed park bench he sat on, his knees drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. He had been out here for nearly an hour, simply observing the people proceed with their everyday lives.

To see them so at peace, with the most stressful thing on their mind being paying next week's bill, Harry couldn't help but feel jealous.

He envied them; he envied the normal lives they led.

They never had to deal with homicidal maniacs. They never had to fight in wars when instead they should be enjoying their final years of schooling. And most importantly, they never had to deal with the crippling knowledge that there really _was _no one out there for them.

Everyone always said there were plenty of other fish in the sea, but Harry wasn't _a part _of their sea. He belonged to another world entirely—in fact, he was caught in between two worlds: the Hunter World and the Wizarding World.

He was the lone fish in a sea all his own.

A cold wind blew and Harry shivered, outside on a chilly November evening without anything to protect him from the cold.

He sighed, his own breath puffing out in front of him. It had been a risk, what he had done back in the hotel room with Dean, but he had, once again, let his emotions get the better of him and he had acted without thinking.

He had just… been so _pissed _when Dean didn't even realize he had insinuated that Harry was something less than human. But despite his less than conventional methods, Harry had managed to get his message across, and for that, he was grateful.

Still… he couldn't go back to the hotel room, not yet at least.

He looked down at the single item he had taken from the hotel room—a slender mirror which reflected Harry's own haggard face back at him. However, the mirror began to ripple, becoming clouded in a smoky grey.

When it cleared, the person who stared back beyond the looking glass was no longer himself, but a familiar face, looking much more rested than the last time Harry had seem him.

"Remus," he said by way of greeting, a warm smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Remus Lupin blinked twice before a grin stole over his face. "Hello, pup."


	11. Bloody Mary pt3

**A/N: **...lol, hi! I know this may come as a shock to some, but, breaking news: I am not dead!

I know its been a while since the last chapter (understatement of the century), but hopefully this update begins to make up for it - at least slightly. The ending of this chapter really stumped me for a while, but hopefully I managed to pull it off well and hopefully you all enjoy it.

* * *

**Bloody Mary - Part Three**

Harry took a delicate sip from the cup in his hand and almost gagged. The once warm coffee that had been in the cup had now turned cold, and if it was one thing in the world that Harry could not stand, it was cold coffee.

With a sigh, he sat the drink down on the table in front of him and stared out the window to his right, watching the different cars ride past. He was sitting, alone, in a coffee shop he had found after hours of idle wandering; having nothing better to do, he strode inside and ordered the first thing he saw on the menu.

The coffee shop was quaint he supposed, or perhaps it was just the deserted atmosphere it exuded as it was nearing midnight and not many craved a cup of coffee at such an hour. Harry had stridden to the very back of the establishment and had taken a seat near the window, not wanting anyone to disturb him no matter how unlikely.

After talking to Remus and, again, breaking down into embarrassing tears, Harry had told the man of all his fears and insecurities, how he felt as if he was just a third wheel when around Sam and Dean who contributed nothing and was only tolerated because he was Sam's friend, and how, even then, Dean was disgusted by his magic and didn't even consider him part of the human race.

He went on to tell Remus how he was dithering about actually telling anyone else in the Wizarding World about what he had become in fear of facing any more rejection that he was sure would break him.

Remus had interrupted his blubbering with a stern, "Cub" and Harry froze, still sniffling and wiping his eyes. Then, Remus had asked a question which gave Harry pause.

"Do you trust me?"

Blinking and unsure of where that question had come from, Harry just stared. After a long moment, he stuttered out, "W-What? Y-Yes… yes, of course I trust you."

"Then wait," was all Remus had said, confusing Harry further.

"Wait on wh—"

"Just trust me and _wait_," Remus had stressed, looking at Harry with serious eyes. "Can you do that for me, cub?"

Still left without words from the spark of something in his father figure's eyes, he nodded, unable to do much else.

With a smile, Remus returned Harry's nod and once more repeated: "Wait."

And that was how Harry found himself wandering through town for hours on end, unsure if he should remain in one place and having no clue what he was even 'waiting' _for_. But, he had told Remus he trusted him and that was without a doubt the truth, so Harry waited.

He walked through town and waited. He found a coffee shop and waited. And while he loved the man with all his heart, Harry was nearing the end of his ability to just _wait_.

There was a sound of the coffee shop's doorbell jingling, breaking him from his thoughts and alerting him that someone new had entered, but Harry just continued to stare off into space, his eyelids heavy from exhaustion but feeling no desire to sleep.

"Is this seat taken?"

The voice was light and innocent enough, but with Harry's temperament as it was, he turned toward the person, intending to give them a quick brush off but the sight of them made him pause, his eyes growing wide.

The hair was shorter than he remembered and was pulled back into a messy ponytail, showing off an ovaled face dotted with freckles. The smile they displayed at his impersonation of a fish was also the same, and when they huffed and rolled their eyes as he continued to stare, he knew there could be no denying it.

"Her-Hermione?" he choked out, standing from his seat. He lifted a single arm—to hug her or to make sure she wasn't a hallucination, he didn't know—but it hovered in the air, uncertain, before he dropped it to his side.

Again, they huffed, but the humor in their face was unmistakable. "Yes, Harry, it's me," she said, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face that had escaped her hasty ponytail.

With that single action, all of Harry's doubts were blown away and he took a purposeful step forward and wrapped the young witch into a powerful hug. Hermione returned it with equal fervor, the familiar smell of parchment and books wafting from her, but there were other smells as well—unfamiliar smells that Harry didn't recognize but he didn't _care _because Hermione was here and he felt such a joy rising inside of him that he thought he would _burst_.

"Harry, not that I'm not enjoying this, but I really need to breathe…"

"Oh!" Harry released the girl and rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment, but she brushed it aside with a smile full of such love and happiness at seeing him, that all the dark feelings he had been experiencing moments prior were blown away. "Merlin, I've missed you," he said, so many different emotions contained in his voice.

"I missed you too," she said, the two of them lapsing into a comfortable silence that spoke of their contentment at once more being reunited. "Though you _could_ owl a bit more."

Harry gaped and Hermione burst into giggles, Harry joining soon after, awed that she was forgiving him so easily when he had not contacted her in _months_.

"I'm sorry," he apologized after they had calmed down, sincerity lacing his voice.

The witch just shook her head and smiled. "Harry, don't. I understand that you were moving on with your life." Harry opened his mouth to deny it, but she barreled forward, cutting him off, "And I'm _glad_."

Stunned, it took Harry several moments to respond. "You… you are?"

"Of course," she smiled. "Wasn't that the entire point of you moving to America? To get away from everything that had happened in Britain?"

"But not you," Harry blurted before he could stop himself. "Not Remus and little Teddy and the twins. Not—"

"Harry, I understand," Hermione once again interrupted, giving a small shake of her head. "After the war… I know how hard it was on you and you alone; everyone was looking for you to be their leader, to guide them from the destruction of everything they knew and to build something even better for them. And you know what? You _did _Harry; you rose up to their unrealistic expectations and did exactly what they wanted you to, no matter how taxing it was."

"Hermione…"

"No, listen," she said, displaying her usual bossiness. Harry just smiled and nodded, feeling something inside of him unwinding with every word she spoke. "After you had given them everything you had, it's understandable that you would want to just… get away and recuperate. To go someplace where the Wizarding World's expectations couldn't reach you—even mine. To once more find _yourself _and be the person that _you _want to be, not anyone else."

Harry shook his head, not to deny anything she had said, but because he was just so _blinded _by what an amazing witch, person, and _friend _the woman before him was. He felt tears rising to his eyes and wiped them away, refusing to cry, even though for once they were tears of gladness.

"Thank you," he said instead, knowing that from what she had spoken that no matter what he had become, to her, that person would be Harry, her best friend and brother, and as he looked into her eyes, finding nothing but love and acceptance there, he knew that all of his earlier fears had been unfounded.

She laughed, but not unkindly. "No, I and the entire Wizarding World should be thanking _you_."

Unable to do much else, Harry once more swept the woman into his arms, this time lifting her off her feet and spinning her around, his exuberant laughter filling the empty air. Hermione squeaked at being lifted, about to open her mouth to demand he set her down this instant, but when the sound of his laughter reached her ears, so open and relaxed and _free_, she endured for Harry's sake, burying her face in his neck to stave off any dizziness.

At last Harry set her on her feet and she stumbled, a tad disoriented but Harry settled her with a hand on her shoulder. Hermione gave him a kind, though slightly nauseous, smile and placed one hand on her forehead while the other went to her stomach.

"I think I need to sit down," she said after a moment, wasting no time in plopping down at the table Harry had vacated.

Concerned, Harry sat across from her and frowned. "Mione? You okay?"

She tried to alleviate Harry's fear with a smile, but it soon gave way to a grimace as a hand raced to her mouth. In an instant she was on her feet and looking around wildly for a bathroom. Shocked, Harry pointed her in the right direction and could only watch, helpless, as she sprinted through the door he had indicated and closed it behind her.

Harry walked over and through the wooden door could hear the sound of retching. A stab of gilt pierced his heart; he shouldn't have overdone it when he had spun her around, but he had had no clue of how badly it would affect her.

When the sounds began to quiet, Harry gave a tentative knock on the door. "Mione? You okay in there?"

The sound of flushing and then the rush of a sink springing to life. After several moments, her weak voice replied, "I'm fine, Harry."

Harry frowned. "I'm sorry for spinning you around like that, I didn't—" The door opened and Harry paused. Hermione looked a little pale and there was a sheen of sweat on her brow, but she appeared to be soldiering through whatever aftereffects she was feeling and gave him a weak smile.

"It wasn't your fault Harry; trust me." She began walking back toward their table and Harry followed, still sputtering on about how he was just too caught up in the moment and how it was dumb of him to just keep spinning her around.

They had returned to their seats yet still Harry continued, only this time in silence, his eyes practically pleading with her to forgive him.

She huffed. "Really Harry, I'm fine! I just need something to settle my stomach and I'll be alright…" She hummed and sniffed the air. "Oh, do you think they serve anything with no caffeine? I could really do with a drink. Maybe something broccoli flavored… with crème."

Harry frowned. "Uh… Hermione?"

"Hm?" she asked, sparing him a distracted look.

"Did you… did you just say you wanted non-caffeinated, broccoli flavored coffee… with crème?"

Hermione blinked, for a moment seeming to channel Luna Lovegood. "Yes. Yes I did. Doesn't that just sound lovely?"

"…N-no?" Harry choked out, wondering what was wrong with his friend. "Hermione, are you… are you feeling okay?"

Again, she blinked and her eyes widened as she seemed to come to realization. "Oh! Oh, Merlin, you don't know? I could have sworn I—or that Remus would… Oh Harry," she breathed, a look blossoming onto her face that Harry had never seen before. It was radiant, her joy seeming to exude from her very skin. "I'm pregnant!"

Harry's eyes widened and he almost fell out of his chair in shock. His eyes traveled down to her stomach which was hidden underneath the table where he now _knew _a life was blossoming. He was also slapped with the realization that Hermione had been experiencing morning sickness, as in Britain it was nearing sunrise, and it also explained her bizarre taste in beverages.

"Mione," he managed to choke out after several stunned moments, a grin blossoming onto his face. "That's fantastic!'

Again Harry stood to his feet and pulled the witch up with him, once more pulling her into a hug. This time however he was wary not to crush her _or _to spin her, as neither could be good for the baby.

"Merlin," he whispered, pulling away to look at her belly which, now that he paid attention, was perhaps a bit more plump than he remembered. "You're having a baby!" he enthused, overjoyed that Hermione was able to live such an—as Sam and Dean would put it—apple pie life.

It was exactly what he would want for his best friend, and to know that she was getting it… It made all of his past actions that much more meaningful, because had the war not been won, then… Harry didn't even want to think about it.

"You and Max must be ecstatic," Harry said, suddenly remembering her boyfriend. "Wait, he _is _the father, right?"

Hermione laughed and held up her right hand where Harry finally noticed a gold band on her ring finger that was adorned by a shimmering blue jewel.

"You're married!" Harry blurted, his eyes growing to the size of saucers for the third time that night.

"No!" she giggled, her gaze drifting down to the ring and her features smoothened at the sight of it. "No… It's an engagement ring. Even though Maxwell is from a pureblooded family, he still went out of his way to get down on one knee and _propose_! Right in front of a group of wizards who had _no _idea what it meant!" She smiled and stroked the ring with such a tender caress that Harry knew her love of her fiancé was genuine, and by the efforts Max went through in proposing, his feelings were true as well.

"Congratulations," Harry whispered, earning a bright smile for his words. "You deserve all the happiness in the world, and I wish you both the best."

She nodded. "Thank you, Harry. It… it really means a lot to hear you say that. And… and I hope you'll come to our wedding?"

Once more, Harry was thrown for a loop, although he should have expected as much. It still sometimes awed him that people could love _him _even half as much as he could love them, and each and every moment always seemed to come as a surprise.

"Of course," he said with conviction, feeling it was worth it just to see her exuberance increase twofold. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

**o0o**

In the end, Harry and Hermione ended up migrating to a small diner across the street so they—or rather, Hermione—could order some real food to satisfy their cravings.

Hermione ordered everything from broccoli covered in whipped crème to scrambled eggs sprinkled with chopped pickles. Harry himself just ordered a cup of coffee, his appetite taking a hit at the mere thought of eating half the things the witch had ordered.

While they ate, they caught up on what had been going on in their lives. Showing a surprising amount of intuition, Hermione strayed from asking him anything too personal, such as why he wasn't at Stanford or what he was doing in Toledo. Instead, they focused on Hermione and the things she had been going through, which suited Harry just fine.

At last, as Hermione was licking the last bit of crème from her fingers, Harry asked the question that had been plaguing his mind for some time, but he was too hesitant to ask.

"Hermione? Can I ask you something?"

She gave a distracted hum, a forlorn look on her face as she stared down at the empty plates before her.

"Not that I'm not overjoyed to see you again, but… what are you doing here?"

With a frown, she looked up at him, seeming to search his eyes for something. "I'm here for you."

"What?" Harry crinkled his brows together. "Why would you—oh… oh! Remus sent you, didn't he?" Harry didn't know whether he wanted to strangle the old werewolf or kiss him.

She nodded, her expression lightening. "Yes, he did. He said I should come see you as it would 'do you some good.' He woke Max and I up before the sun had even risen, and oh, you should have seen the look on Max's face, he was _livid_." At seeing Harry's bemused expression, Hermione tutted and pressed on. "Anyway, Remus said that I should visit you right away; I had to call in a few favors with the Department of Magical Transportation to do it, but I managed to get a Portkey that would take us to this town. After that, it just took a simple Point Me spell to find you."

Harry nodded, contemplating, when something Hermione had said gave him pause. "Wait a minute—_us_?"

"Of course," she said, flashing a bright smile, "Maxwell came as well!"

As if on cue, the entrance to the diner gave a small jingle and Harry turned, a frown already working its way onto his face. And of course, standing there in pristine burgundy robes was the brown-haired Ravenclaw himself.

Max spotted them and walked over, ignoring the odd looks the cashier gave him as he passed. He spared a barely-there smile for his fiancée before turning to Harry and staring at him with cool eyes.

"Potter," the man said by way of greeting.

"Max," Harry said, nodding.

Hermione beamed and scooted over to make room and the man sat before putting an arm around the woman and pulling her close. Harry wanted to find the little display cute, but as Max did it, he gave Harry a look the Gryffindor couldn't quite name.

"Did you check us into a hotel?" Hermione asked. Max just raised a brow, but that seemed to be enough of an answer for Hermione as she huffed and rolled her eyes.

"You're staying?" Harry asked, both pleased and disappointed all at once. He wanted Hermione to stay as he loved her like a sister, but Max… there was something about him that had always made Harry wary, and that feeling was almost two-fold after not seeing the man in years.

"If my honey wishes it," Max began, voice smooth as silk, "then yes."

Harry stared a little at the rather embarrassing pet name, but Hermione seemed to shine upon hearing it so he kept his disbelieving comments to himself. "I see," he said instead, plastering a smile on his face. "That's… good. Really good."

Hermione frowned, picking up on his odd behavior. "Harry…?"

"Nothing, it's nothing," Harry said, trying to bring his good cheer back to the forefront. So what if he had never gotten along with Max? Hermione loved him, and she was a good judge of character, so the least Harry could do was to not push the man away. Setting whatever grievances he had aside, Harry brought a smile to his face.

"So, Harry, where are you staying?" Hermione asked. And just like that, Harry's forced cheer was blown away and his lips twisted downward without his consent. Once more, he could feel her concerned gaze burrowing into the side of his turned face.

"I… I was taking a road trip of sorts with my friends—friend," Harry began, voice tight. "You remember Sam, right?" Harry had written to Hermione every week or so when he had first arrived in America, but as time passed, his replies back to her began to wane, but he had told her all about Sammy.

A small smile graced his face when he remembered how he had written to her of how he thought Sam was perhaps half-giant, as there was no way the man could be so tall otherwise.

"I remember him," Hermione said. Harry turned to look at her, and she gave him an encouraging smile. Next to her, Maxwell listened in as well, but his indifferent expression gave away nothing.

Harry coughed. "Well, after… after—" He darted a glance at Max. As much as he wanted to tell Hermione _everything _in that moment, including the death of Jess and his transitioning into a hunter, he just _couldn't_, not while Max sat stoic at her side. "Anyway… Sam has a brother… Dean, and Dean came looking for Sam because their father went missing."

He paused and chewed his lip while he tried to stem the overflow of emotions that washed over him. Maxwell narrowed his eyes the slightest bit, but Hermione just watch watched on with comforting silence.

Taking in a breath, Harry continued, "They decided they would look for him together, because their dad dabbles in some… shady business, and I decided to go with them..." This was where things got a bit tricky. If he were to give her the full story, that would reveal things to her that he didn't want Max to know—not yet at least.

Normally, he would try to phrase things in such a way so that Hermione would understand—at least with some thought—and to whoever it was that was listening in, it would seem as if he were speaking nonsense. But with Max, who was Hermione's equal when it came to intelligence, there was a risk that even he would come to the correct conclusion. And Harry had no way of knowing how the Ravenclaw would react.

Giving his head a slight shake, Harry pressed on. "…We traveled around a bit, stopping every now and then at places where we thought we might find out more about Sam and Dean's father, and along the way I… I grew _fond _of Sam's brother." Harry gave her a meaningful look, and her eyes widened as she understood the weight of his words. He refused to look at Max, as he could already feel the man's dark gaze burrowing into him.

"I-I can't say too much, as its… kind of personal…" He dared a glance at Max, and their eyes met for a brief second. Harry felt a chill roll down his spine and he looked away. "But, suffice it to say, we had a falling out and now… now I just…" Harry trailed off with a sigh, his gaze directed down at the table.

"Oh, Harry…" Hermione breathed. "I'm sure everything will work out… But, in the meantime, you're welcome to—"

"No."

Of course, the swift refusal had come from none other than Max. The man stood from his seat in an impressive billowing of robes and sneered.

"Maxwell!" Hermione shrilled, looking affronted.

"No," he said again, eyes still on Harry, who returned the stare in stunned silence. "I refuse to have this man anywhere near you while I sleep."

Harry's eyes widened even further as he began to understand the accusation being thrown his way. Hermione seemed to as well, as she stood to her feet, and despite being a good five inches shorter, seemed to stand nose to nose with the man.

"Maxwell Karvious-Silivander Darkfield! You apologize to not only Harry, but to _me _this instant!"

"No," Max hissed, not even sparing a glance at his fiancée.

Hermione stomped her foot in frustration. "Maxwell! I have known Harry since I was a first year and since then, he has became like a _brother _to me! And besides, if you hadn't noticed, I'm engaged to _you_! Oh, and if that wasn't enough, Harry doesn't even _fancy _women, so why can't you just—"

"No!" With an almost violent growl, Max turned on his heel and grabbed Hermione by the arm, pulling her along with him.

The witch hissed in pain as she was dragged and that was all it took for Harry to leap into action. He grabbed the other wizard by the shoulder and forced him around, making him release his grip on his best friend.

"You're hurting her," Harry said, a harsh edge to his voice. His eyes ware narrowed into slits, his feral expression reflected in Max's gaze. He kept a firm grip on the man's arm, applying enough pressure to bruise—just as he had no doubt done to Hermione.

"Release me at once," Max demanded, voice even and unafraid.

"Harry, please," Hermione whispered, cutting through the fog of anger that had clouded his mind.

Harry continued to stare at Max for several moments before gazing at Hermione and seeing the pleading look on her face. Grimacing, Harry did as asked and stepped back, his fingers twitching to move for his wand should it be needed.

Hermione placed a delicate hand on her fiancé's arm, drawing his attention at last. "Maxwell…" Something seemed to pass between them, something Harry didn't understand. But Max seemed to receive the message, for a dark frown crossed his face and he scoffed.

"We leave in five minutes… Without _him_." That said, Max turned on his heel, his robes billowing behind him in a manner that would make even Snape weep as he strode out of the diner to disappear outside.

Hermione and Harry both stared after him, neither speaking for several long moments. At last, Harry opened his mouth to speak, but was beaten to the punch.

"I know what that looked like," she said, staring down at the ground, "and I know what you're probably thinking…" Gaining courage, she finally met Harry's gaze, a fire in her eyes that made Harry listen. "Maxwell is _not _abusive and he usually isn't so aggressive… I know that might sound like the oldest cliché in the book, but he has _never _hurt me, and I know he loves me. It's just that—" She bit her lip and paused, her gaze drifting downward.

"You don't have to explain anything to me," Harry said, seeing how she was struggling.

"But, Harry… you… you deserve to know. You're my best friend."

This time it was Harry's turn to avert his gaze. "I'm the last person who should demand answers from anyone."

Hermione giggled, causing Harry to look at her in confusion. She just smiled, although there was a sad lift to it. "It seems like we've both been keeping secrets from each other…"

"…Mione?"

"I'm sorry, Harry, but… I have to go. But let's meet here tomorrow around noon for lunch, okay? I promise I'll tell you everything then."

"Hermione, what—?" Harry tried to make sense of what she was telling him, but she was already heading toward the diner entrance.

She threw a final glance over her shoulder.

"Tomorrow. Noon. Don't be late!"

The bell above the diner door jingled as she exited through it, and Harry stared after her, her parting words still ringing in his ears.

He wasn't the only one keeping secrets?


End file.
